No Prey, No Pay
by arrows-and-roses
Summary: Anne is a fairly new resident of the island Angel's Port. Although she's adjusted to her new life there, she encounters an unexpected change when she meets Shanks. He challenges not only the way she views the world, but how she views herself. Shanks X OC
1. Prologue

Angel's Port was a minuscule island in the West Blue sea. An island of little recognition yet of many famous inhabitants it was, and to this day, although deemed inconsequential to those of higher degree (i. e. the World Government, navy personnel, and those bountiful amounts of arrogant pirates with a dilluded perception of superiority), it was a the 'hot spot', as so oftenly described' for anyone in dire need of relaxation and fun.

The heavenly port, although small, had a vast community that stretched across nearly the entire surface of the island. Most people there were farmers, all who had their own slab of land with a differing number of acres, and grew a variety of vegetation that was not only beneficial and a necessity to the island's inhabitants, but excellent trade items in the markets whenever one of the men took a ship out to the continent. Fine specialties included carrots, turnips, bananas, apples, cabbage, onions, peppers, corn, tomatoes, potatoes, lemons, limes, strawberries, raspberries, and many, many more! The constant weather pattern and climate made growing all foods an effortless task, and one could even find joy when attending to his/her crop.

But the island was suitable for more than just growing fruits and vegetables. It had an excellent brewery channel, specifically for the alcoholic beverage isake/i, that was arguably the best drink in the world. For that fact, there were over five bars running in the district, which were packed each day and night. Pirates, locals, even neighbouring fishermen would seek the infamous island of Angel's Port to sample the scrumptious sake and find pleasures in the ample source of gorgeous, easily-attainable women. It was a sanction for all desiring merriment, and even, when necessary, a person desperate to be hidden. Without a doubt, the island was a perfect home for light-hearted folk.

And born, in this well respectable society, was a man righteously, yet questionably, known as Captain Red-Haired Shanks. Believed to be a nefarious pirate, however all who met him knew that such statements were adequately deemed 'false', he was truly a sweet gentlemen harbouring too much kindness in his heart, but possessed power so great and complex that his true intentions, and personality, were not well-know except for his few selected trustees. Nevertheless, every great man, whether good or bad, started off small before they grew big. And not even Shanks was an exception to such logic.

It was four years past the anniversary of Gol D. Roger's death. A traumatic but irreversibly and inevitable event that still linked to constant thinking in the mind of the young pirate, Shanks. He had not neglected to waste time as he put his dream and goal into action – to create his own crew of pirates, sail the world for fun and adventure, and become the best in the world. Simply, he strived to become the new Pirate King. His first attempt of recruitment was to an old friend, Buggy, but understandably his request had been denied. The two wanted the same thing – and they knew that only one could have the extravagant title of outlawish monarchy. So, they separated, gliding along their own paths in hopes of success, which led Shanks to travel across the seas in a battered dinghy until he discovered his first crewmate and friend, Ben Beckman.

Although Ben could understand and even share many views of Shanks, they were two very different people with personalities that could almost be conflicting, if it weren't for the laid-back disposition Ben carried whenever Shanks was in a bar or trying to brighten the day with bits of irrelevant news and facts. All in all, they made a great pair of friends, and their different knowledges greatly helped their voyage on the sea for when they met the other crew members they adopted.

It was when Shanks finally turned the ripe age of nineteen that he decided to return to his hometown in search of celebration and, of course, relaxation.


	2. Chapter 1

The sweltering heat signalled heaps of perspiration to escape from their pores. The sun was hanging so low they could feel it staring down their backs, as if trying to see if it could light them on fire if it gazed long enough. Shanks awkwardly lifted his straw hat from atop of his head and fanned it across his shining, oily face; the weather had definitely remained the same.

When he stepped onto the soaked, fraying deck, a quick glance of Angel's Port had revealed to him that nothing regarding physical formations had taken a dramatic change either. The shops greeting the docks of the island still advertised great merchandise for weary travellers to grasp interest in, and they still remained in the same, battered condition that he could last recall. There were possibly a few new paint jobs, but nothing that made him blink twice and consider that his hometown had changed. No, everything was perfectly imperfect, as it should have been.

But although the traditional, old-fashioned appearance still claimed dormancy for the entirety of the village's outlook, it was much more popular than he had ever seen it in his short lifetime. Travellers of unknown origins mingled with the townsfolk, some speaking in languages he couldn't recognize to save his skin. Children darted through the immigrant's legs, stealing distorted looking objects, then being forced to return them when noticed by an adult. Numerous, foreign vendors were placed randomly along the port, brandishing all sorts of instruments he hadn't expected to ever appear on the surface of his sanctioned home. In fact, looking at Angel's Port in this transfixing light, it was very, very different than his initial impression had lead him to believe.

Shanks, however, wasn't a man to allow for disappointment to seep into his jaunty persona, and instead turned towards his forgotten crew and called for them to follow him. With long, boisterous steps, Shanks lead his friends and subjects towards the town.

As eyes observed the men of repugnant perfume fast approaching them, their main focus was, as Shanks could very well note, him. He promoted a dampened attire consisting of a scruffy, white blouse which had most of its buttons undone; a pair of sleek black trousers that were torn at their ends and fraying; an old, tattered red bandanna had been ripped to form a comfy belt around the pirate's hips; and lastly, a straw hat with a small, scarlet ribbon tied across it, and placed neatly on a head of disorganized, red hair. The clothes, the over-jubilant grin that revealed miraculous white teeth, and the ever simple hat notified the older residents, who were lounging outside the incredibly crowded stores, that it was Shanks. He had finally returned.

Although many of the elderly ladies considered to greet the young man and interrogate, they instead sought to alert the town that their young pirate prodigy had returned home. For such ancient, barely living figures they made great haste as they charged towards the most popular bar in the district – The Rotting Fish. Shanks watched their petite, decrepit bodies disappearing towards his favourite tavern as a child. Still refusing to alter his stride, he proudly conducted his crew to follow him in the same awkward steps that caused unfamiliar people to stare at him with questioning expressions. A particular gorgeous brunette seated atop of a sturdy, but probably empty, barrel rolled her eyes as they paraded near her, and muttered something with a dark tone that sounded exactly like "_pirates_". The surrounding girls had their backs facing the large crowd, but their shrill giggles followed Shanks and his fellow pirates as they continued down the street.

Shanks never broke his stride, nor did his followers, and he knew that by the time they reached the bar, everyone would be preparing to welcome him with much desired questions for him to answer.

Ah, he really did feel at home.

"Men," he barked when they soon reached the end of the street. The tattered inn incorporated into a bar faced his short in comparison body. Its wooden panelling was wearing down through the rough ages and would soon need to be replaced. There was no paint job, but it had a more homey touch with the look of a wooden cabin. Shanks gazed at it proudly as fond memories passed through his mind. This had been his sanction before he had joined Captain Roger's crew. In fact, this had been the location where he had first encountered the infamous man; and now, he had returned as a captain himself.

But there was no time for personal reminiscing! The inviting scent of liquor was wafting through his nose, probing the delicate limb into a state of desperation. Damn, this heat made him so thirsty...

"Men," he repeated once more in a more weaker tone from before. "I introduce to you... The Rotting Fish!"

And without a doubt, a sign hanging from an erected pole above a grimy window on the second story announced just as loudly in bold, yet faded font: THE ROTTING FISH, with a picture of what was probably meant to be a decaying fish on it. The crew laughed heartily as though this was the funniest title they had ever heard in their entire lives. Shanks grinned at their amusement and approached the chipped, wooden doors, pushing them open with enthusiastic force. And just as he had expected, inside erupted a tumultuous explosion.

"HULLO, SHANKS!" screamed the bar inhabitants. Shanks' smile couldn't have grown any wider as he recognized each and every face that smiled and approached him, all too eager to have their hands on him.

"Good to be back," he murmured to himself. The crowd surrounded him and soon became so thick and tight that he was almost having a difficulty with breathing. The human blockade was suffocating, and the heavy desire for some rum was really making his knees quake. However, a second later, Ben, his first mate, pushed him forward out of the centre of the crowd so to create a path that he and the other crew members could navigate around. This little action proved to benefit both separate parties as the crew were able to find seats against the wall while everyone else spread out to give Shanks enough room to relay his exciting adventures to the eager audience.

"All right, now, calm down a moment," he said patiently, still advertising his jubilant grin now that he could breath without any interference. "Someone get me some rum and then I'll start talkin'."

Retelling his life felt like a fairytale to the young captain. In reality, the crowd saw him prancing across the counter tops and tables, making hilarious body gestures, repeating stories that caused a raucous of cheers and hilarity, and spraying the audience participants with alcohol. Yet in his complex mind, he was revealing his greatest passions – the very stories that made him thankful to be alive each day, living with a ferocity that consumed him and made his existence worthwhile. He was a jolly man – not a cruel, sinister beast intent to harm everyone. He was a pirate, yes, but he worshipped the sea, and in turn, it held respect for him. The navy and government had regulations that he could never expect himself to abide by; he was above such a dull nature. Sure, there were the occasional acts of thievery, hostage-taking, and sometimes, when someone truly wronged him, pillaging, but still, he was a good man.

Wasn't he?

Through the middle of one of his more, _ahem_, outlandish stories, the double doors at the entrance of the bar opened, and in walked the brunette glaring at him earlier. Accompanied by some friends, who he recognized as the girls he used to tease when he was younger, they sat themselves near the doorway, almost as if they prepared to exit at any given moment. Shanks found himself distracted by their sudden presence, and so turned his attention to someone standing in front of him so he wouldn't lose sight of his story. Yet he could feel them watching him...

Women watching him...

He smiled. That wasn't bad. Not bad at all.

*

"Oh, wow! Shanks is back! Can you believe it? I haven't seen him since he left with that old pirate..."

"I know! He's grown so tall... and handsome! Do you think he'll recognize us? Oh, I hope so; he's sooooo cute~!"

"Cute? Puh-lease! Talk about the understatement of the _millennia_! Shanks is... is... is..."

"A pirate."

The excited chatter of the three girls died down in an instant. All three blonde heads turned towards the only brunette, each with an eyebrow raised in speculation. Anne was surprised that her present female company could even process a thought, let alone be so amazed over her one comment. It must have been her derogatory tone – she needed to work on that. It lead people down a path of curiosity; what was worse, was it was curiosity in reference to her.

Still, this wasn't a topic she was ashamed to approach – she simply didn't like pirates.

"What?" she asked anyway, her tone more sharp. Annoyance generated naturally when she was aware that someone was watching her. It had a more potent feeling when it was three girls filled of all heart, yet no brain.

"Annie, c'mon. Pirates aren't all evil. Especially not Shanks! We've known him since we were kids; he's a great guy, really. I swear, he's nothing like those nasty ones with the huge bounties!" Charmille's assurance was greatly ignored by the brunette, though, and she moved her gaze back to the pirate now tap-dancing on the bar counter.

"So cute."

Anne's eyes rotated in her head. Love-struck, that's what they were. Pirates, navy, fisherman... why did these girls consume their male preferences with men who worked on the sea? It wasn't that great – it was a simple gathering of water with an area that could reach thousands of miles. It inhabited ferocious men, sea creatures, and entities of the unknown. She lavished the ground much more than the instability the sea had to offered.

But Anne knew better than to explain this to her friends. She decided it was best to ignore her own feelings and instead encourage her friends.

"Why don't you go say hi? I'm sure you all of have fond memories to share," she suggested, her blue orbs nearly twitching as they fought the desire to roll. "Go – it'll be fun."

The three ladies turned to her with the same stunned expression they had had only moments before. Anne couldn't resist feeling as though she was some kind of animal with characteristics of absurdity.

"Are you... serious?" Sophie questioned, her tanned face still displaying a look that was marveling in shock. "You want us to risk being pummelled by a mob _that_ size?"

Olivia shook her head of bright yellow as though she was trying to reason with a child. "Annie, that's not how it works. Shanks comes to us! See?"

Charmile placed her middle finger and thumb against opposite sides of her mouth, and a sharp whistling noise screamed out. Nearly all attention was now focused on them, but she only smiled at the startled red-head. "Shanks!" she called out. "Come over here!"

And much to Anne's great dismay, he jumped from the wooden furniture he had been previously abusing, and approached their table.


	3. Chapter 2

_Great_, Anne thought as the red-haired pirate carried himself closer. No, he never carried, he _jumped_ over. Her brain over-worked itself as she speculated ideas that could assist her in avoiding such an introduction, but the majority of them were too impolite. Shanks-—or whatever his name was-—was a person, after all. A pirate was a person, wasn't it?

She sighed in remorse. No need to think that immaturely; she would allow him the benefit of all her doubt. Though she could not resist the notion to remind herself that as a pirate he was an official outlaw---didn't that object to all of her morals, regardless?

She ignored herself; she had no choice but to be introduced.

"Hello, ladies," the man greeted once he had arrived with his very fast-moving legs. He gave a quick wink to Charmille, whose tanned features flushed instantly. Olivia and Sophie stared at him with the most revolting look of admiration reflected in their mossy irises, and Anne struggled for a brief moment as she fought the urge to mock vomit.

Pa-the-tic.

"Ooh, Shanks! We haven't seen you in _forever_!" Sophie gushed in a sudden high-pitched tone. "Why have you been away for so long?" Her bottom lip jutted out in what must have meant to be an adorable pout, and abruptly, the other two were mimicking her every action. Anne had seen enough already.

"Awe, I'm sorry, girls! I've jus' been busy, tha's all," he explained with ease. He sat down in the vacant chair located beside the brunette with the potent pierce of loathing. Just as he had expected, she scowled at him, but he pretended, with an amused expression, not to have noticed. "But I came all the way back here just to see you three."

A smirk was now sporting across the young captain's face and Anne frowned. Was he making fun of them?

"Awe! That's soooooo sweet, Shanks!" Charmille squealed. Her obliviousness to the blatant sarcasm was borderline hilarity. Anne stared at the chipped table with a depressing look and inhaled deeply, her round cheeks retreating into her face.

Patience, dear, she mocked herself.

Olivia nodded, too, though, her bright yellow locks flaring out in a vigorous manner. "It is, it is! You're _such_ a gentleman!"

Anne's self-control deflated then as she released a snort of amusement. "Gentle Pirate... That's an oxymoron if I ever heard one," she murmured more to herself than her present company.

Shanks finally glanced at her with a friendly smile advertising across his coral lips. "And who might you be?" he asked politely, obviously not aware or uncaring to her previous insult.

She stared at him in a moment of silence before swallowing the barrel of insults that clogged her mouth. "Anne," she replied in a curt tone. And with that said, she turned away from him to stare at the bar inhabitants as they attempted to make room for a dance floor, which wasn't simple because of the crowded conditions. A smile penetrated her physical formations for an instant, before she returned her attention to the unworthy individual polluting her current setting.

"Anne," the red-haired man repeated to himself, and a smile once again bloomed along his features. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Anne! I'm Shanks!" He extended his arm towards her, his hand open in a friendly gesture. Anne eyed it suspiciously, almost as if she expected some kind of trap to be ensnared in the sturdy limb of flesh, but decided that such a paranoia was ludicrous. She in fact was substantially grateful, and decided he didn't deserve any hostility for _trying_ to act as a gentleman for her. Her slender limb ascended into the air and settled smoothly into his open fingers, and they shook hands.

"It's a... pleasure to meet you as well."

From ahead of them, the three blondes stared with a mixture of confusion and worry. Did Annie honestly not see Shanks as a nice guy? Was his background of the sea really too relevant for her to accept him as a worthy individual?

No, it wasn't.

"So, Shanks," Anne began, trying to create a comfortable conversation for the table. "Why else have you returned here? I mean, aside from seeing these lovely ladies, of course."

Shanks grinned as he noticed the tone of sarcasm sewing through her words. This woman was not the first of her kind, and surely not to be the last. Shanks had encountered many negative characters related to her before, and he wasn't at all offended. In his mind, her opinions of him were simply formed on ignorance or bad experience. Either way, it wasn't his fault or concern.

"Well, it's been a long time," he began explaining. "I wanted the crew to see my hometown, and I think they already love it. 'Side from the awful weather, of course. It's always been too hot here. But that's what alcohol is for!" And he erupted into a bout of laughter, and as he laughed, a sudden disposition of jubilance and freedom formed around him. Anne was, again, startled.

The other women of the table laughed with the captain, even though they hadn't exactly been paying attention to what he was saying. He was just too cute to listen to; those eyes were soooo dreamy, of course. And his lips only served one purpose, and that did _not_ involve speaking.

The aforementioned women gazed at Shanks with such a longing desperation. He was much more gorgeous than most of the other men their age. He wasn't the most particularly sexy man that they had ever seen, but he was more carefree and enjoyable.

So much better.

Shanks himself couldn't remove his eyes from the girls who giggled and smiled those cute, flirtatious grins. He wasn't familiar with women very much, so to see them so comfortable around him made his confidence soar. Maybe he didn't need the experience to be able to attract them — could he possibly have an _au naturale_ talent for it?

He simply did not know.

And in the middle of all of this vomit-inducing thinking sat Anne, whose expression pleaded for mercy from the horrendous setting. If they were going to start exchanging stories of "oh, remember that time you liked me" or "tee hee, what did you _always_ used to say when we were younger" or something else along those revolting phrases, then she would have to remove his pistol that was tucked into his belt and pull the trigger against her temple.

No, she had a million other activities to partake in that wouldn't leave her crying for murder or suicide.

So, with as much politeness as she could muster, she smiled and excused herself from the four love-birds. Her exit was too quick for any of them to return the goodbye, but she was content. After all, if she had remained there any longer, hearts would have started to form in their oh-so-gorgeous eyes.

She tossed her own optical orbs in a quick run around her head. _That_ would have been the absolute most disgusting scene of crap she would ever witness for the remainder of her existence.

However, as Anne walked away from the rambunctious bar now emitting sounds of music and raucous laughter, a wind gently caressed the thin hairs lined around her arms. Her golden sundress shuffled discerningly, and she placed her hands along the hems to prevent it from rising up and exposing her "private quarters".

Wary of such an incident occurring, she hurried home without any divergences.

*

"So... she hates pirates?" Shanks asked the familiar girls once Miss Brunette had made her departure. He felt almost angry at her sudden exit---was he being a pirate _that_ terrible for her? It's not like he had insulted her; in fact, she had been the one tossing the remarks! He thought he was acting like a gentleman. I mean, he had basic manners, and he wouldn't dare make a lady uncomfortable. Yet there he sat, staring at three beautiful women who he considered his sisters, and thinking of the bitch that made him feel equivalent to shit.

"Oh, Annie doesn't just hate pirates. She hates the navy, fisherman, fish in general... She hates water, too," Sophie informed him. She was hunched over the table, her voluptuous chest almost clearly exposed for him to see. It wasn't that she wasn't beautiful, because the woman definitely was lovely... but remembering the fact that he had known her since was three was just a little uncomfortable for him.

"I don't think she can even swim!" Charmille added, clearly wishing to be involved in the conversation as well. That didn't surprise Shanks very much, though; if she hated water, why would she bother learning to swim?

Olivia, the last of the trio, shook her head in annoyance. She didn't have any care of discussing Annie right now. "She's just a temporary resident. She only showed up three months ago. She'll be gone again soon."

However, this didn't numb Shanks' overgrowing interest. He placed his elbows on the aging table and leaned forward, offering the girls a grand smile. All three sighed in unison.

"And... why did she come here?" he asked, his tone casual. He wasn't very much attracted to the negative shrewd that he had just encountered, but he couldn't think of a logical reason why a person who despised water was living on an island that was regularly visited by men of the sea and whose most popular offering was alcohol.

Really, he needed a further, detailed explanation.

It didn't come as a surprise to him, though, when the girls didn't feed him any more information. They clearly just wanted to see inside the head of the pirate, whose only gift were mere tales of the sea. After a long delay of realization, the women came to terms that they just weren't going to win him over. With some disappointed good-byes, they, too, left the bar. Shanks rejoined his crew, gave them a recommendation for the girls' sake, then dove back into his well desired public.

*

"Awe, really? I'm sorry to hear that, Char," a forced, condoling tone spouted. The four women were reunited, this time lounging around two beds that they all shared. Anne herself was propped on the bedside table, her back relaxed against the wall. In her hand was a thin martini glass filled with strong sake. All four girls seemed to resemble each other, for they wore similar nightgowns with varying colours. Anne bore a red nightdress that appropriately hid her ankles from any view, while her friends had a shorter taste in mind.

Charmille sighed. "It's okay, Anne. I mean, we have known him _forever_. I guess... we just didn't realize he was gay all this time."

Anne stopped herself from choking just in time, but the drink still drained past her lips. With a few sputters of an apology, she removed a white handkerchief from her pocket and wiped her mouth. "Gay, you say?" she murmured as she dried at her drenched areas. From her peripheral vision, she witnessed all three heads bobble in a nod.

"Yeah," Olivia said. "He's definitely gay."

Anne couldn't help herself as the laughter erupted from the base of her throat. It was too funny how their arrogance prevented them from understanding that he wasn't attracted to them, so, logically, they assumed the man was gay. She continued to laugh and laugh and laugh until eventually, her ribs were too sore to bear her any longer.

"Annie, how come you laughed? It's not like it's bad to be gay!" Charmille screeched. Before Anne could defend herself, Sophie interrupted.

"Yes, it is. A man being attracted to a man is _wrong_."

Anne found herself forced into silence. The tone her friend had used contained such disgust, a hidden sense of superiority and self-righteousness. _A man being attracted to a man is wrong..._ It was all too familiar.

"Shut up, Sophie!" Olivia angrily shouted. Anne's attention immediately returned to her, and she felt a sudden love for the girl.

Charmille nodded her agreement. "YEAH! Shanks is so allowed to be gay! I wonder who his boyfriend is! How come he never told us?" she asked.

_Probably because he's not gay,_ Anne thought to herself. She kept it to herself only, though.

"Maybe it's the first mate," she suggested instead. All three heads turned to her, surprised.

"You know they have first mates, Annie?" Char questioned her with the sweetest dumbest expression the brunette had ever seen.

"...I'm not retarded, honey."

"But you _hate_ stuff like that! We thought you didn't know anything!"

"Yeah, Ted thinks you're ignorant," Sophie added.

Anne felt her cheeks burn. Ted was the owner of The Rotting Fish and a sea-lover to boot. He absolutely loathed Anne, and she reciprocated his feelings with as much passion. It wasn't as though Anne broadcasted her views to the village, but her dearest friend's had mouths that couldn't close, and eventually her greatest displeasures in life had been brought to his attention. After a very heated dispute he had made it clear that she was not a welcomed resident of Angel's Port, and the public had hated her since. Luckily, her friends were too stupid to care or even notice the obvious resentment that greeted Anne anytime she made an appearance. In fact, her stay at The Rotting Fish today had been a surprise, and she had Shanks to thank for it.

"Ted thinks I'm many things," she uttered at last. She drained her drink as her friends launched into a discussion of who Shanks' male lover could be. She didn't pay it any ounce of attention---he was obviously _not_ gay---but stared at a map on the opposite wall from her, pinned with little needles that marked all the places the girls wished to visit one day. Her eyes focused on a particular region before she felt the tightening in her throat that signaled she was ready to cry.

"Aaaaaaaaaanne, who do you think it is?" Sophie whined. For someone who thought it was wrong to be gay, she was quite interested in finding out herself. _Probably going to ridicule him,_ the brunette thought, before reminding herself that there was no male lover. Still... she could go along with the theory. It would definitely make tomorrow interesting.

She grinned at her friends and slipped onto the bed, stretching her lengthy body beside Olivia.

"I still reckon it's the first mate."


	4. Chapter 3

_Look who finally decided to publish again. Yeah, I know: amazing, isn't it? I could give you a thousand reasons as to why I haven't updated, but you don't care, so I'm not going to bother._

_The point is: I'm on track again. _

_You want updates? I want reviews._

_Don't make me spell it out for you._

_Enjoy yourself, guys. If this receives a good reception __**[and reviews]**__, then I solemnly swear to have the next chapter out next week._

_Savvy?_

An early sunrise greeted the silent island of Angel's Port. The humidity remained low for the time being, but it promised to smother the poor inhabitants within the next few hours. Hardly anyone stirred to greet the morning sun, for the previous night had been filled with constant parties that hadn't simmered for anyone's sparing. Shanks personally hadn't stirred even once since he'd collapsed on the terribly thin mattress that claimed a title of bed for him at a cheap residence for lodgings. Even in sleep his head pounded unmercifully, creating terrorizing sequences in his mind. A fresh patch of stubble formed along his chin, ascending towards his ears along the side of his face. His lovely, coral lips were parted as little droplets of saliva leaked onto the scratchy fabric he deemed a blanket, and his clothes were stained with grease, sweat, and alcohol.

Yes, it had indeed been a long, enduring night, in which he had enjoyed whole-heartedly. He and the crew had been given such a wonderful reception, all who were eager to hear their stories of adventure. Even Ben, his first mate, had loosened himself until he reached a drunken stage, something he was normally too wise enough to do [he preferred to drink sake, then water, then sake, so he was not overwhelmed by the alcohol content]. Women who had scoffed at Shanks when he was a child dreaming of a life on the seas couldn't remove their eyes or their hands from his body, though they frightened him more than anything.

And all was peaceful in his sleep... until the door opened.

"WAKE UP, SHAAAAAAAANKS~! We're taking you out todaaaaay!"

Shanks' eyes opened immediately, and he stared into his damp pillowcase with confusion. Hurried footsteps charged towards him, and before he could defend himself, he was piled on by several bodies. His groan of misery was unheard.

"Shanks, get up! Please, we've been waiting patiently for hours!" whined the voice of Charmille, who even in his confused state he could recognize.

"It's true," intervened Olivia. He could feel her at his left, tugging on his arm and urging him to lift himself up, being assisted the other two bodies on his figure. "We want to meet your boyfriend," she added more quietly.

That was the statement that initiated the restart of his brain. "Whaaa?" he asked stupidly, his head lolling off to the side and onto his arm. His eyelids weighed down on him as he tried to see the girls. Charmille had pulled the curtains aside so the sun greeted him with blindness. From a further distance, he heard soft laughter.

"Ladies, get off of him or you're going to have nothing to interrogate," Anne mused, watching her friends as they tugged on him, desperate to have him moving at normal speed. One look of the haggard pirate told the wiser woman that this just wasn't going to happen until he had a decent amount of caffeine injected into his system.

She shooed her friends downstairs to get him some food and coffee and then approached the startled man, who now moaned over his obvious headache. She smiled almost sympathetically.

"Shouldn't drink so heavily. It's terrible for your liver, too."

Shanks glanced up at her and sighed. "I don' need tha'. They can take me liver... jus' make the pain go away!"

She chuckled to herself. "My, my, my... and here I believed you seamen were so strong. Yet if you're so easily overcome by liquor, then there really is no use for you after all."

Shanks closed his eyes and lay still. Anne frowned at him as he breathed deeply and just assumed that he was choosing to ignore her insult.

"Why you call me a seaman?" he suddenly asked. "Wha' is it?"

Anne stared at him in obvious disbelief. "Are you serious? You don't know what a seaman is?"

"Isn't that the stuff-"

"No!" Anne shouted immediately, her face actually flushing red. "SEAmen, you idiot! Men who work on the sea! Fisherman, pirates, navy... You know? Seamen?"

She stared at Shanks' figure, awaiting his reply, but he just sat still and quietly. Her annoyance only grew from that, and she shook her head. "Ugh, you pirates truly are ridiculously stupid."

Shanks actually laughed at that. "You're so nasty for someone so cute."

Anne felt a twitch in her fingers. "I didn't like either part of that sentence. For one, I'm not _nasty_. It's called honesty, something you pirates need to hear more often so you can be knocked off that high pedestal of yours. And secondly, I am not 'cute'. I am quite... attractive as a woman. Not 'cute' like a little girl!"

Shanks laughed again, amused by how riled up he had made her. "Sweetheart, I'm not the one on a high pedestal." He grinned sheepishly at her. "You're the one with the attitude."

Anne merely glared at him before glancing back at the door, wondering how long it would take the girls to come back. "It doesn't matter," she murmured quietly, pausing for a moment, before adding childishly: "You're still pathetic."

Shanks frowned his confusion; he didn't understand her whatsoever, and he rubbed his head, trying to sooth the pulsating aches that agonized it so much. Anne turned back to him, watching him carefully with narrowed eyes before she moved to the closed door, shoving it open quietly, and stepped into the bathroom. As she expected, there was a cloth and a basin of cold water, and she dipped in the thin piece of material, soaking it, before draining it and moving over to the red-haired pirate.

"Idiot," she murmured again as she tilted his face and placed it to his forehead. It covered his eyes as well, but she saw a smile appear on his face.

"Can you give me a bath, too?"

His request was met with a very violent slap across his face, and the pain in his head increased so significantly that he cried out in pain, though the slight soreness in his cheek wasn't that bothersome. He rolled over onto his back, wincing as he clutched his head and rubbed his fingers deeply into his temple, as though trying to erase the agony from it. He heard Anne's clipped steps as she left the room and wondered briefly how women could wear such uncomfortable heels, before once again, he was overcome by another reverberating assault.

When the three young women returned, Shanks was still moaning softly, as if this could somehow help his unfortunate predicament, and they were overcome with worry. Charmille moved to his side immediately, bending herself down to put the cloth back on his head.

"S'okay, Shanks," she murmured gently. "It's just a hangover."

"Yeah!" chimed in Olivia, "You'll be fine."

Shanks nodded in agreement, stupidly, and once again, he was groaning to himself, miserable by the dull stabbing that his mind was suffering. The girls were highly unsympathetic and waited patiently for him to eventually prop himself up on his elbows, the pain now slightly faint and tolerable.

Sophie stared at him questioningly. "Are you ready now?"

The red-haired pirate sat silently, and murmured yes just before he caught himself attempting to nod. Suddenly, though, he frowned once more. "Ready for what?" he inquired. The girls giggled at him.

"To introduce us to your partner!" Charmille giggled. It took Shanks a moment to comprehend this and then he grinned.

"Oh! You mean Ben? Yeah, yeah, we can find him... he's probably already up." The captain's eyes had long-since adjusted to the light of the morning sun and he glanced at the window, fully aware that Ben, whether he was suffering from a hangover (most unlikely) or not, was definitely awake and mobile.

However, there was a squeal from his side, and he turned back to his present company, wincing slightly.

Olivia was staring at him, her mouth agape. "Isn't he your first-mate?" she whispered dramatically, her eyes wide and flickering back and forth between him and the other two girls. Shanks nodded his head carefully, confused as to why this had any significance.

Sophie shook her head, and Charmille looked thoughtful.

"I guess... Annie was right," she murmured at last. The other two nodded while Shanks stood up and looked around. He was still wearing his clothes from last night – they didn't smell too bad; he was certain he could pass it off. He was nearly out the door, the girls following him, before he pictured the frightening Brunette standing before him, angrily yelling at him that he smelled like a dog.

Hmm...

He continued moving; at least it saved him from being ignored by her. She was interesting – the girls weren't exaggerating when they informed him the previous day that she wasn't fond of any association to the sea, and boy, did she ever hate him for being a pirate. He was suddenly curious if maybe she had a father or brother or former lover that was a pirate, who may have instigated her extreme loathing and now she just jumbled everything together and decided it was the ocean's fault.

Oh, he couldn't imagine giving up the sea or wishing a day without being on it. It was dangerous, but that was half the beauty of it: something so unconquerable and frightening yet captivated every bit of him with its beauty and mystery.

He paused. A sudden comparison passed through his mind, and a devilish grin broke out: his trip to Angel's Port now seemed much more exciting than he had been expecting it to be.

He turned to the ladies, bemused as his mind ran through several possibilities at once. "What's say we go collect Anne and I'll introduce you all to my crew. We can even give you a tour!"

He saw the excitement form on their faces and knew they would pressure Anne to the point where she wouldn't – or couldn't – refuse. More than content with himself, he suddenly didn't care at all for the pain in his head and shrugged it off as nothing worthy of his recognition, instead focusing on the cruel torment he was going to cause in order to figure out this very confusing creature.

**[Yo ho, me hearties!]**

Anne had considered murder an easy solution for countless scenarios in her life, but this time, it seemed quite reasonable, and she was sure she could pull it off, as there were plenty of places where she could hide the bodies. It was just the damn witnesses preventing her from going any further than thought, though laziness was a factor, too. She didn't have the patience to endure the stress of taking someone's life, as beneficial for her as it would be.

Regretfully, she merely accepted the invitation to board Shanks' ship – though she gave him another slap just in case there was a perverted undertone. Apparently, he truly believed she would be entertained by walking aboard his vessel; pfft. Pirates.

It was primarily the enthusiasm of the girls that urged her to go, as she wanted to see what had them so hyped. Their giggling was much louder than normal, but maybe it only seemed that way because Anne simply wasn't happy. And she couldn't quite explain what had her so miserable, but it was that angsty feeling that filled her stomach and ruined her mood. And that stupid pirate.

"Ever been on a ship before?" Shanks asked politely as she walked at his side, the three girls trailing behind them. The young brunette quirked an eyebrow at him amused.

"No, of course not, Shanks. I rode on the back of a dolphin to get here," she responded dryly. Shanks actually laughed in reply and clapped her on her back, sending her forward several steps. She managed to secure herself before she fell and turned back to glare at the pirate. "Asshole!"

"Hey, hey! I thought it was funny... Sorry about tha'," he added, as his fingers gently stroked the spot where he had shoved her. Angrily, she grabbed his hand and squeezed it in her own, hoping her menacing stare would unnerve him as her grip was pathetically weak. However, Shanks only continued to smile.

"I knew you wanted to hold my hand, lass. No problem!"

Before a protest could be made, his right hand had completely enclosed around her much smaller one. He gripped her softly, but firmly, as he lead her onto the decaying docks. It was crammed with ships of all sizes, a few dinghies wedged between them, and several fishermen boats. Small waves gently rocked them in a rhythmic pattern, causing them to nudge each other at times. Annie had no idea which ship the pirate captain owned, until she caught site of a jolly roger... with red hair. Her face paled considerably.

"You're an unoriginal delinquent," she murdered under her breath as she finally jerked her hand away from him, wiping it on the skirt of her dress. Shanks hadn't heard her comment, and he eagerly went ahead of her to run up the ramp, clearly happy to be onboard of his ship again. The three girls also surpassed her, following Shanks with excitement, and when Anne joined them only a few seconds later, they were already touring the deck, squealing over every, irrelevant and highly stupid detail.

Anne wasn't amused. "Is this real necessary?" she glared at Shanks. "It's just an oversized boat."

The pirate made a sickly face, mocking her dislike with humour. Her eyes narrowed once more.

"Oh, loosen up," Shanks countered, rubbing the back of his head as a bit of soreness pulsed. His mouth was dry, his stomach was rumbling with a mixture of nausea and hunger, and his head was still clenching in pain, despite his efforts to ignore it.

Anne turned away from him and stared at the busy city of Angel's Port. More foreigners were there today – the sake festival was approaching soon, so most were probably preparing their taste buds. Although Anne wasn't a major drinker, she enjoyed a small glass every now and then, but the sake was too potent for her. She couldn't fathom how men and women were capable of being in drinking contests with it.

"So how long have you been here?" Shanks asked behind her. Anne didn't turn to face him, knowing full-well she'd bring him harm if she saw his face.

"Only a few months."

The pirate moved in front of her towards the edge of the ship and leaned his back against the reeling, flashing a grin at her in the process. "I see. You like it?"

She snorted and turned away. "Not particularly. I'm not fond of islands."

"...Because they're surrounded by water, right?"

Anne frowned and her eyes reverted to his face one again. His smile was more sincere than silly this time; what was he thinking about?

"...Right," she murmured in agreement.

Olivia suddenly interrupted them and linked her arm through Anne's, giving her a tight squeeze. The brunette returned her smile before Olivia's eyes swept over Shanks.

"Can we meet him now? PLEASE, Shanks?"

Anne's eyebrow perked up and she glanced at him curiously. "Who?"

"His first mate!" Olivia giggled in reply.

It took Anne only a moment to understand the reference and she quickly covered her mouth, hiding her smile as it expanded. Now everything made sense – she had almost forgotten the conversation from the night before.

Shanks couldn't comprehend why they wished to meet Ben so desperately, but he figured it had something to do with women feelings and such. Ben had agreed to stay onboard the ship for the night (they were to take turns during their stay), and he was sure he was hiding around somewhere, fully aware of their presence but too uncaring to make an appearance. He grinned and brought his hands to his mouth cupping around it to help his voice boom.

"HEY, BEN! WE HAVE GUESTS!"

A brief moment of silence and stillness occurred before the tall figure of the first-mate, Ben, crept out below from the forecastle. He said nothing as he pulled out a cigarette, lit it, and moved over to the crowd of women and Shanks.

"Captain."

Shanks grinned again and clapped him on his arm. "Meet these lovely ladies. Uhh... Char... Charmille, Sophie, and..." He paused and a look of panic blazed across his face. "And... and... OLIVIA!" he shouted happily.

Ben nodded his head respectfully. "It's a pleasure to meet you, ladies."

The three young women stared at him in awe – he was as handsome as Shanks!

"Oh... they look... perfect together," Charmille murmured. Sopie rolled her eyes; Anne snorted.

Shanks glanced back at the vicious woman he had neglected to introduce and grabbed her arm, bringing her to his side.

"And this is a scary sea monster. We've named her Anne; careful, she's venomous."

Ben closed his eyes as Anne raised her hand and slapped Shanks for the third time that day. "Quiet, dog, or you'll go back on a leash."

Shanks groaned quietly to himself as he hunched over his legs, clutching his head.

"You shouldn't drink so much," Ben murmured unsympathetically. Anne shot him a smile.


	5. Chapter 4

**Author's Note:**

Hello, darlings.

Well, this came out... much later than I expected. Granted, I've had half of it finished for a while, but I just... got caught up with my life in Thailand and so I neglected my update until now.

Please enjoy it, anyway. It's ten pages long, so it's a longer read for you guys, and you definitely deserve it. I'm in a great writing mood, so I'm hopeful for another update soon, as well as other fanfiction work from me.

Review and favourite, if you likey~.

:)

**[***]**

Ben's personality was a polar opposite of Shanks', and regardless of the fact that he was a pirate, Anne actually got along fairly well with him. He was kindly and respectful, especially to his fool of a captain, and most importantly — her.

The girls surrounded the two of them in fascination, and Anne could see that the men hadn't realised what was going through their heads. Anne herself wondered if the joke was on her and maybe they were gay, but the perversions Shanks had showed early seemed to dispute that.

"The rest of the crew should be getting up soon," Shanks told them as they soon sat at a table he had brought up from below.

Charmille nodded her head uncaringly as she eyed the glass of water suspiciously — they could see it hadn't been cleanly washed. "So, Shanks..." she began. "When did you two meet?"

The red head's eyes flicked towards the open sea and he grinned widely. "About... a week after I left to make my own crew. Wasn't hard to find this stick in the mud," he added, clapping his buddy on the back. Ben smiled through his cigarette before blowing it out towards the town. He normally wouldn't show such courtesy, but the presence of ladies always complicated things. It was primarily why Shanks had promised them to never take a woman aboard his ship — pirates couldn't place a polite persona for such a ridiculously long period of time.

The sight of Shanks touching Ben, even in such a friendly manner, had the girls gasping and whispering to one another, though the men were still dense to their beliefs. Anne had left to pay a visit to the markets, collecting food for them, though they knew she just wanted an excuse to leave for the time being.

Still, everyone was in a positive mood; Shanks, personally, was eager for the rest of his crew to join them, as they often complained about the lack of women around. Then again, he was aware that some of them had left earlier from the bar the night before with female companions. Ah, he couldn't blame them — he never had time for women. Too many adventures to go on and they all wanted a commitment he couldn't make, though they were lovely nonetheless.

As if they had read his mind — and Shanks always had a suspicion that women did have the secret ability — Olivia interrupted his thinking. "Shanks... do you have a special... lady friend?"

Shanks' eyebrow arched in response and he paused to take a glass of water that the brunette had fetched for him before answering with a wide grin. "Nope! Love the sea too much!"

Although, he didn't mind getting to know Anne a bit more than... than what they were. Awkwardly, he patted Ben's shoulder. "This here's my main woman."

He laughed at his joke as though nothing funnier in the world had ever been said. The other girls stared at him in shock with wide eyes and huge smiles… except one.  
Sophie stood up, a disgusted look on her face. She had been hoping with all of her might that her friends were actually wrong — that he was really just attracted to one of them and too polite to say anything, but the fact that he definitely was with... with a man was simply too much for her to bear.

"That's wrong, Shanks," was all she muttered as she reached down, grabbed her bag and slung it across her shoulder violently before stalking off the deck. Olivia and Charmille stared after her, their foreheads creased with worry. Ben ignored the situation, not bothering to analyze it, though he suddenly had a suspicion. Shanks, however, couldn't determine what had made Sophie so upset.

"Wha'd I say?"

Charmille turned back to him and smiled. "Nothing, Shanks. Don't worry — Sophie's just on her period."

A scarlet colour manifested on Shanks face, blending with his hair and he turned away awkwardly to face Ben. "BEN! Ben... how... how was last night?" he asked desperately, frightened of the forbidden topic of conversation they could trespass on.

Ben wasn't nearly as worried as him, but he shrugged. "It was fun, captain. And you enjoyed seeing everyone again?"

"Oh, absolutely," Shanks replied, gripping the back of his seat as he leaned himself back and stared at the bright blue sky blanketing their world. "It was amazing; everyone likes us. Hehe, and I thought they would kick me out... ah, we have a bunch of good folks here."

"Of course we do, Shanks!" Olivia chimed in. She was curling the short blond hair atop her head with her index finger, looking intently between the two. "You're a great person... and I love your hair."

"Me, too!" Charmille agreed. "Right, Annie?"

Shanks head lifted immediately as the Brunette's face came to view, the sound of her heels clipping against the boat accompanying her. She carried several brown paper bags in her arms, and he stood up to meet her halfway, taking the bags out of her arms in an act to try to please her.

"You're a little late on that" was all she said to him before she took his seat beside Ben. He followed behind her and peered into the bags eagerly.

"Yes! No fish!" he cheered as he set the bags down and began pulling out the food. Although not certain, Anne had a suspicion that they would enjoy a different selection of food for the time being. Fish was the only source of protein they could find on the seas, and if she was in their place, which she never would be, she would desire something different, like beef or poultry. Apparently, her assumptions had indeed been correct.

"There's chicken and beef," she said as she pulled out some plates from a cupboard littered with broken glass. After removing her handkerchief, she wiped them off carefully, hoping to remove all of the glass. Shanks took them from her uncaringly when she finished and she unpacked the bag he had neglected — the one containing vegetables.

"You're eating those, Shanks," she warned as she jerked his plate out of his hand and piled on an assortment of greens. "Your body needs them, especially if you spend most of your time on the open sea. You should be thankful your teeth haven't already rotted out of your head!"

He flashed a grin in reply. "Concerned? Don't worry, lass; I'll eat 'em."

She merely rolled her eyes.

Olivia tugged on her sleeve, then. "Sophie left," she murmured quietly at her side.

"Yes, she passed me on her way."

"I think they're cute," Charmille interjected. "Ben's calmer; he balances him out. Sophie will understand!"

Anne ignored the conversation and handed Shanks an overfilled plate. She did the same for Ben, who took it graciously without complaint.

"Sho," Shanks began with a mouth full of food, "wh' 'oo wa' o oo ooay?"

Her eyes narrowed at him and she leaned over the table to grab him by his chin. "Swallow. NOW. And if you ever, _ever_ speak to me with your mouth full again… I will stab you with my fork. Understood?"

Shanks swallowed.

**[***]**

By the time the five of them had finished eating, the rest of the crew was making their way on board. The heat had now risen to a degree that required Anne to borrow one of her friend's fans in order to bear it. She was used to it, of course, but it was still so unbearable at times, and she hated the feeling of her sweat forcing her clothes to grope even closer against her body. Shanks had cleverly moved himself around so he sat beside her, and every now and then he would remove his hat from his head to fan it across his chest, as well as hers.

"I'm watching you," she warned, eyeing how close his hand was every time he did so.

Shanks made a face. "Oh, relax, Annie. I'm not like that."

She snorted. "You're a man."

Whatever retort he had planned to voice was lost as a man of overweight proportions bounded over to them, a rack of meat grasped in his hand.

"Howdy, Captain," he boomed as he slid into a chair beside Ben. Anne listened as it groaned under his weight, though the man seemed to pay it no attention. She couldn't see his eyes, as they were hidden by a pair of goggles, but his head had turned towards her and her female companions. "And these lovely ladies are…?"

The three girls shared a look of discomfort between them. Anne resented her shallowness, but she knew that she had absolutely no attraction to this man, and the fact that she couldn't see where his eyes were made her incredibly uncomfortable. However, he had such a large grin on his face, one that bore no hint of cruelty or perverseness.

"Anne," she replied, sharing a small smile for his benefit. Charmille and Olivia murmured their names as well, but the awkwardness just wouldn't disappear.

"So…" Char began, but Shanks bent forward and wrapped his arm around Anne's shoulders. "Roo!" he shouted gleefully. "This here is Annie! She almost gave me a bath earlier."

Anne stared at his face speechless, but much to everyone's surprise, she never slapped him. After she had composed her face, she picked up her plate, placed it into her lap and without so much as a bat of her eyelashes, lifted the fork and stabbed it into his thigh. A yelp of masculine tones erupted from the captain as he leapt from his seat, pressing hard into the injured area.

"Ooooh! Ooh! Oh, oh, oh! Owwwwwe!"

He continued shouting and hopping around on his uninjured leg while Anne neatly cleaned the fork with a napkin and placed it on the table, replacing it with one that hadn't made contact with the flesh of the pirate.

Roo merely munched on his meat rack, a wide grin still featured on his face.

For the most part, the crew received the girls impressionably well. Charmille and Olivia were fawned over by the lust of the men, and boy, did they enjoy it. Ben and Shanks were unwittingly feeding the girls' suspicious of their hidden sexuality, though the men could finely see his very-passionate interest in Anne. After nursing his injury, which he concluded didn't hurt whatsoever, he had made it his goal to have her smile at him before the end of the day.

Well, either he did so or he'd be the one staying on the ship for the rest of their stay at Angel's Port. He needed to learn not to accept _every_ bet, especially from the likes of Yassop, as even he couldn't disagree that the possibility of Anne showing him any mutual interest, much less a smile, was as great as him making a journey to hell and returning unscathed.

She was so devilishly evil, too. He _loved_ it.

Anne personally showed absolutely no interest in the men, though she kept engaged in conversation with Ben, who proved to be far more intelligent than she ever suspected. He was even a smoker, a habit she was dying to pick up.

"What's it like?" she asked curiously as Shanks gave up trying to acquire her attention for the time being. The crew had broken out into dancing and singing and drinking, all for the enthusiasm of the other two girls. Ben and Anne stood near the front of the ship, leaning against the paneling.

"What's what like?" he enquired as he took a drag of his cigarette and blew the smoke out of the corner of his mouth, away from her. She smiled and nudged the length of it with her finger.

"This."

Ben's eyes closed and he shrugged his shoulders.

"Relaxing."

She frowned at him and shook her head. "No, I mean, what's it like? Does it taste as awful as it smells?"

The pirate burst into laughter and shook his head amused.  
"Sweetheart, I wouldn't recommend you picking up this habit. Not for a lady."

She sighed unhappily and crossed her arms as her eyes swept over the sea bitterly before she turned back to the crowd of pirates.

"Are they always like that?"

"Yeah. It's fun — good environment."

Anne continued to watch them, not knowing exactly what else to say to him at this point. She couldn't exactly strike up a conversation of how much she resented his friends, and she didn't want to trespass onto the topic of that wretched pirate.

She decided she needed to find a safe territory.

"Do you have a wife?" she asked nonchalantly.

Ben raised an eyebrow in amusement. "No. Probably never — I'm not interested in that kind of life."

"Because you're a pirate?" Her tone was mocking; Ben could easily hear it. Without a doubt it confused him, as she had been perfectly social a few minutes before. Why was she so bitter over something so irrelevant? The crew was so polite Ben himself couldn't believe they still considered each other pirates.

She had such a foul attitude.

Anne didn't interject when Ben walked away. Her eyes followed for a brief second before she turned her back to everyone and focused her eyes on the crowded streets of Angel's Port. She needed a distraction, immediately, and in her apprehension, she quickly moved down the slope and entered the market once again. It was packed with chaos and the most awful scents of body odour were wafting up her nose; how could anyone possibly bear this? She covered her nose and moved through the people. It hadn't been like this earlier, but as the heat was starting to settle, more people were filling the streets, and naturally, they found their way _here_.

Oh, gods, she couldn't stand it! A group of sailors were circled around a barrel of sake they must have just purchased and were simply standing in the middle of the street. People were walking past both sides of them and she couldn't fit herself through. Feeling her irritation at a bursting point, she tapped the shoulder of the largest, muscled idiot and put on a very painful smile.

"Excuse me… can you please get out of my way?"

So much for false sincerity. Even she could hear the loathing in her tone and her smile was no longer present. The man — a bald figure with a large, bushy, brown moustache grinned at her anyway.

"What's this? You want us to move, sweetheart?"

"Obviously." _You idiot_ she added to herself.

He laughed and the other three men joined in the circle grinned between one another, prompting her to feel slightly nauseous. "Want to join us for a drink? We're heading over to Coral's Reef. We'll pay," he added, as though this would be the only concern on her mind.

Before even replying she shook her head. "No. If you could just get out of my way that would be just perfect."

The smile had disappeared from baldie's face and he reached out and grabbed Anne by her upper arm, pulling her into their group and enclosing around her. She swallowed as she leaned back against the barrel, not comfortable with speaking with how tight his grip felt.

"Quit being a bitch, pretty," he cooed and reached over with his other hand to grip her chin. She had enough and slapped his hand away.

"No, I'm … I'm n-not —"

Her eyes swept through the cracks between the men, but everything was so tight-packed and no one had noticed her predicament. She swallowed nervously, trying to ease the apprehension building up in her chest.

"…All right, one drink," she agreed. "Now can you please move?"

The men were pleased with her change of mind, but rather than release her, she was grabbed by the bald man who placed his arm around her waist and lead her forward while one of the other's lifted the barrel of sake. As much as she wished to, she resisted struggling from fear of his response. She turned her head and stared at Shanks' ship as she walked away, but she couldn't see any of the crew members, nor identify Shanks' trademark red hair.

Condemned to her fate, she walked beside the disgusting man towards another, hideous bar.

**[***]**

Unlike The Rotting Fish, Coral's Reef was hardly occupied. It could be because it was only four in the afternoon, but considering the state of the bar itself — she could see the grime on the counter, even from the entrance way — she decided it simply wasn't a local favourite.

"Sit down," Morks, the balded man, murmured into her ear. She barely managed to hide her face of disgust as she sat herself at the table nearest the exit. A window was at her right and she stared out it, through the dirt, only to see no one passing down the street. Of course: they were all at the market.

"What'll you have?" asked the gruff voice of the bartender. He was a short man with heavily muscled arms with several tattoos decorating them. A cigar hung out the corner of his mouth as he pulled out a few bottles of rum, assuming their order. His eyes briefly met her own before he noticed the barrel of sake. "Get that out of here," he added, indicating it with his index finger.

Morks nudged his comrade who obliged with a few oaths under his breath as he heaved it out of the bar, propping it beside the door. When he entered, he glanced down at the beautiful brunette beside him and blew her a kiss. Anne grimaced.

"What'll you have, sweetheart?" he asked as he dragged out the wooden stool from beneath the table and plopped himself down. Her eyes flickered back to the window and she shrugged.

"Anything but that wretched sake."

"You've gotta be kidding me!" Morks shouted from across the room. "It's the best in the entire world!"

"Then the world's standards have seriously depleted. I want water." Even in her discomfort, she could still pull off a stern no without losing her temper. Morks rolled his eyes at her — he couldn't understand the broad — but he didn't question her and brought several small bottles of rum and a greasy glass of water for her. She gave another look of disgust as he placed it down in front of her.

Morks rolled his eyes and suddenly reached over and lifted her off the stool with one arm. Alarmed, Anne's head whipped up, only to find that his face was a mere inch away from hers.

"Hey, st-"

His lips met hers before she could finish saying the word and he lowered her thin frame onto his lap, securing her chest against his with his muscled, sweat-stained arm. She couldn't stand being so close — his body odour wasn't masculine and sexy, but nauseating and putrid — and the man's _breath_; she needed out of there, immediately, and her hands moved against his chest, trying to separate their bodies.

"Enough, pretty. We're just having a good time, right?" Morks murmured, his tongue creeping out of his mouth to trail along her bottom lip. Mortified, she turned away just in time to see the bar door open and in piled members of the red-headed idiot's crew. When she saw the captain, she felt all of the relief in the world as his dark eyes met hers and his smile appeared.

"So this is where you left us to!" he chuckled cheerily, but she could see a strain in the way he smiled — was he actually angry?

Immediately the grip on her body was loosened as Morks and his men realized that she wasn't just some pretty face they picked up the street: she was a friend, or more, to Shanks. Without a second's glance towards them, she stood up and moved to Shanks' side, forgetting all of her animosity and rudeness to him, and deciding that for once, he didn't look so horrid.

"Thanks," she whispered to his side as he lead her to the front of the bar. "Why are you in this dump, anyway?"

Shanks' eyes were still at the front of the bar, and he kept them there for a long moment before he shook out his red hair and smiled down at her, lifting her onto a stool in the process. "Well, Ted's bar is closing tonight — his wife is sick. So, we thought we might as well get started here. And once we arrive, others will start, and then it's just one happy party!"

The young brunette stared at him with an expression of disbelief. "But… you're hung over," she said flatly.

Shanks snorted. "I'm fine. I's not that bad."

"You were whining in pain this morning," she pointed out, and when he shrugged, she slapped his chest. "Do you stupid pirates have any concern for your bodies, or are you just going to drink until you drop dead?"

"Well, that's a fun way to go out, don't you think?" His eyes twinkled with amusement, while her own wanted to pierce him with ice.

"It's not funny. Alcoholism can destroy your body."

"Well, then," Shanks murmured and his head dipped until his lips met her cheek. "Thank you for caring, Miss Annie."

Anne was saved a second time when the door opened and Charmille and Olivia ran inside, new dresses with a much shorter length and a thicker face of make-up now covering them. She clutched her head as she stood up from the stool and met them half-way, her confused thoughts trailing with her.

"Annie!" Char hugged her tightly while Olivia handed her a bag.

"What's this?" she inquired, a slight nervousness in her tone as she peered in. It was exactly what she didn't want: a dress.

"No. No, I'm not wearing that. If it's anything like what you're wearing, it's not touching my body."

Char and Oliva rolled their eyes. "Anne, it's fine. It's just a dress for tonight. There's going to be dancing! Shanks called the local band, and they agreed to play for us for free! Everyone's going to be here tonight; maybe you can find a boyfriend." Olivia gushed excitedly. Anne's expression was pained.

"I don't want to really attract a man that's only desire is to see me in this. This is too inappropriate," she murmured, but it was more to herself. How could they expect her to wear something like this? She wasn't going to judge them for their choice of dress, but she couldn't come to terms with herself in such disgusting drab.

"Annie…"

Anne sighed. She didn't want to disappoint them, and suddenly she was curious as to how a certain someone might react to her in this. "I want a jacket."

The girls agreed to her term, and Anne left the bar with them to return to her home. It was a little cottage, about a mile away from the main port but still over-looking the sea. She had been renting it from an elderly lady when the poor woman died of old age. Her children now owned it, but they continued to rent to Anne, as they were constantly on the move between Angel's Port and the main continent. It was perched upon a small cliff, which on her second day of living there, Anne had accidentally fallen down. Ever since then, she had been wary of walking along the porch.

But the girls entered without any accidents and Anne changed into a red dress with a skirt that reached her mid-thigh. She was so distressed about the length that she paid little attention to her sleeveless arms and very slight cleavage until she saw herself fully in a mirror.

"…I think my jacket's longer than this dress."

"Anne," Char sighed. "It's just tonight. Just one night. We promise we'll never, ever ask you to wear something like this again."

"Good," Anne agreed, "Because I never, ever will wear something like this again."

She rolled her eyes but found a jacket that covered her well enough that she didn't feel too uncomfortable in the dress, though every few moments she was still trying to drag the skirt down.

An hour later, Anne found herself perched on a stool, once again located at Coral's Reef, with a vodka martini in one hand and her other one still grappling with the hem of her dress. No one had seemed to notice or care about it, though; almost all of the women were wearing similar clothes, however such a commitment didn't help Anne feel any more secure. Most of the people were gathered in the centre of the room, where the tables and chairs had been moved to the side and the townsfolk danced and cheered. She could even make out Shanks fiery red hair as he jumped up onto her former table near the door and performed a strange foreign dance she had never seen, though the audience was delighted with it. He truly was an entertainer.

"Oh, Shanks is always the life of the party!" Olivia agreed when Anne had pointed this out to her. "He's never a bore."

Anne shrugged her shoulders uncaringly, but decided, on her own terms, that maybe she wanted to have a little fun of her own. With that, she abandoned her nearly full drink and moved into the crowd, past the sweaty, crowded bodies and to Shanks presence just as he jumped down from the table.

"Hey, Annie," he greeted, his voice nearly breathless as he wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. "Enjoying yourself?"

"Sure. So, what was the name of that dance?" she asked loudly. The voices around the room were escalating, and women were starting to scream as the band members trudged in with their guitars and accordion.

"No idea!" Shanks shouted back. "I saw it one night when I was staying on this liiiiittle island in South Blue. Too drunk to remember everything, but the man taught me that dance, and boy, was that a fun night."

She nodded her head slowly. "I see. Well, you're very good at… what you do."

He grinned in response. "And what is it that I do?"

She thought by now that their conversation of shout back and forth would have annoyed her, but his smile caused the corners of her mouth to rise a tiny before shaking her head.

"I don't know. You're stupid and aggravating, but you're not really … malicious."

"Tha's your job, honey," he winked at her, but her smile was gone and she rolled her eyes. "Oh, I'm just teasing!" he shouted again, and this time, he brought her into his arms. Her eyes narrowed and she glared up at his face, but Shanks ignored it and helped her up onto the table before climbing up himself.

"No!" she shouted immediately. "No, Shanks, I will kill you! Put me DOWN!"

"Lighten up, princess!" replied the pirate and as the band started to play, he took her hand and pulled her close. His eyes were kind and earnest, but all she wanted to do was run off the island, as fast as she could. "Just follow my lead."

"I don't dance. I don't. I mean it, I just _don't_."

"You can do this," he assured her as his hands swept down her back in a soothing way. "I promise i's nothing bad… I's easy."

She swallowed as Shanks started to jerk his body in a rhythmic fashion to the music. It didn't look so hard… she could do this.

And for the second time in her life, Anne let go.


	6. Chapter 5

**Author's Note:**

OMGGGG. I literally just wrote this entire chapter TODAY. I haven't done something like that in ages, but I'm so proud of myself! Maybe updating has finally become an easier task!

Anyway, I'm just... so happy with this chapter, but mostly because I'm so thrilled to start writing the next chapter. I still don't know how I wrote all of this today... I haven't been inspired to write at all, and yet, I managed to finally get this done! Gah, this is crazy!

Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this! I love my readers - you guys are truly the best! :)

Review and favourite if you likey!

-prin

* * *

The night before felt like a dizzy haze that Anne wished her mind could suppress. However, unlike most of the bar participants, she had not been consuming alcohol, and therefore, her memories were fully intact. Every time she pictured herself standing on that table, dancing with that idiotic, disgusting, horrible, disease-ridden pirate, she wanted to decapitate the memory... or better yet, remove him. Her embarrassment was incredible, although the reception of her performance had been rather positive from the townsfolk.

Apparently, they too had thought that she needed to have more fun.

Anne was less than pleased by her behaviour — and it infuriated her that no one else could see her stand point. Shanks was apparently smitten with the fact that she had danced with him, and for some reason, was now standing in her sitting room, while she thought of what to wear for this "special surprise" he had planned for her. It was probably a poor attempt for him to either romance her or sleep with her, both of which would fail.

However, her curiosity was too great — as per usual — and it's not as though she had any other plans for the day. Regretfully, her fingers reached for a cotton yellow dress and she pulled it over her frame. She attempted to prolong doing her hair, although she found her actions very childish. Shanks... well, he was absolutely an idiot, but he had... no, nevermind. His intentions couldn't possibly be anything but conniving and disgusting. He was a man, as well as a pirate.

"Annie?" she heard him call out. "Are you ready?"

Attentively, she focused on her image in the mirror and played with her hair. She was purposely stalling, like her dim-witted friends would do if they, too, were in a situation like... well, no. It wasn't a date.

Anne sighed — she was being rude again.

"Just... just a minute!" she replied as her hands threaded through her thick russets of hair. Eventually, she collected them into a fist and twisted them into a bun. Simplicity was key, if this was a date, though she had expressed very clearly that it was only meant to be an expedition between acquaintances. Even calling him her friend was too much at this point.

Regretfully, Anne pulled open the door of her room, locked it, and moved to her sitting room. Shanks was waiting on one of the cushioned seats, wearing his loose, white shirt that clearly exposed his chest. Anne stopped for a moment, her eyes gazing over the crevices of his stomach caused by his well-defined abdomen.

Oh, my.

"I'm... ready," she murmured as her eyes left his body and focused on the window that exposed the sea. Scowling, she reached over and tugged the curtains to hide it. "This better not be stupid, Shanks," she warned as he lead her out of the house.

The red-haired pirate glanced back at her and chuckled. "Relax, Annie: it'll be fun. Think you can handle that?"

Anne scowled as a response, but Shanks helped her down the creaking steps of her little cottage, and together, they trudged through the sand until they reached the road into town.

"We're going later; we'll need to grab some supplies first," Shanks explained as they approached the bustling markets at the entrance of the port. Anne grimaced.

"Couldn't you have warned me? It's the afternoon — it's so packed now," she complained as they started to dive into the horde of people. "Ugh, I hate the markets!" she cursed to herself as an elbow slammed back into her shoulder. Wincing, she reached for it, but Shanks' arms surrounded her on both sides as he placed her in front of him, kneeling over her to ensure that she wasn't hit again.

"I'll take care of you," he said, a huge grin on his face. Anne stared back at him, ignoring the bright light that erupted from the sides of his face as he blocked the sun.

"You look ridiculous with that straw hat," she muttered, before pulling her head down. Shanks laughed.

"Oh, Annie," he chuckled, but he said nothing more until he tugged her to the side of a vendor. Anne quickly discovered that they were shopping for foods, and she suddenly had a suspicion of what he was up to.

"Are you going to try and cook me dinner?" she asked a little while later. It was quite late in the afternoon by this time — they had finally purchased all of the items, and only now did the markets slowly start dissembling. Anne resented her lack of luck.

"Well, I'm hoping you'll help," Shanks responded. "It's not so much the meal as the place. But it's better in the night — especially _tonight_."

Anne thought about any significance for the night, and suddenly, she nodded her head. "Ah, you mean the full moon? You're not going turn into some sea monster, are you?"

The pirate's head turned towards her and a devilish smile began to form on his handsome features. "Absolutely, lass."

Anne rolled her eyes.

* * *

"You know, Shanks: I realise you have a rather friendly disposition, despite being a filthy pirate, but if you attempt to rape me, I will cut off your... weapon."

Shanks sighed complacently as he trudged up a hill. She was so grumpy, even after he had taken her out for a glass of wine — which he vowed to never have again, good gods, it could never compare to sake! The bitter taste of it still stained his mouth, though he had stashed away a bottle of rum inside his pocket.

"Are you listening to me? I mean it, Shanks, I will not be victimized!"

"Yeah, yeah," Shanks murmured, shaking out his red hair before pausing. They had been walking for twenty minutes now, and Shanks knew it couldn't be much further. "It should be on the other side of this climb," he told her.

Shanks, being a gentleman despite his company's beliefs, was carrying all of the dishes of food that Anne had cooked for them earlier. She was already aware that he was planning a romantic picnic, which he knew he wouldn't be able to hide, but he was hoping to surprise her with the sight he had in store for her. The progress with her the past few days had been amazing — she seemed to be almost teasing him with her insults, or at least that's what he told himself. Ben agreed as well, though, and considering his intellect... he was counting on him.

Although, when Shanks thought about it, the reality was that two of them knew absolutely nothing about women.

His footsteps stopped abruptly at the top of the hill and Annie quickly climbed the few steps that separated them and stood at this side.

"Oh... my goodness."

He had lead her to a small cove — isolated from the great hills that they had to climb in order to reach it. The moonlight exposed them to enough of its beauty for Anne to see that the journey had been worth the effort, despite her own conflict in regards of her feelings for Shanks. Still, she gripped his wrist tightly, before gently taking his fingers.

"I think... you did well."

Shanks smiled at her and leaned down, his lips almost upon hers, before she stepped past him and started descending the hill. "Come on, Shanks!" she demanded. "I'm hungry!"

The red-haired captain stared as she ran down the hill with more enthusiasm than he ever anticipated her to have stored inside. His mouth was slightly parted as he watched her body, specifically her ass, before remembering her very detailed warnings. Swallowing his suddenly full mouth of saliva, he secured the dishes in his arms before releasing a loud howl and following after her.

Anne's feet picked up speed as she quickly realized he was much faster than her. "SHANKS! Don't-"

She didn't know why she was yelling at him, but she just ran faster, her breath coming out in hard gasps until she finally hit the sand again, and her speed instantly decreased. With her adrenaline having peaked, she slowed down until she nearly reached the waves and just stood still, her eyes sweeping over the water as it crashed against the bed of sand.

Shanks was laughing as he came up to her side only a few seconds later. He dropped the blanket on the ground and used his feet to spread it out before setting the dishes on top of it. "Like it, eh? I'm fond of it meself. Used to come here when I was a lad — look! You can see some of the sandcastles... kids still use this place."

Anne nodded her head slowly, though her thoughts were suddenly deep and she took a few steps forward until she reached the tide line, before shrinking back again. "I... yes. It's lovely, Shanks."

He frowned, though, his eyes sweeping over her as he noticed her curious behaviour. "Annie? What's wrong?"

She was silent for a moment before she sat herself on the blanket and fanned out her skirt. "Nothing. It's just... I used to love a place similar to this when I was younger, too."

Anne did her best to avoid his gaze, as she didn't wish to dive into this story, and Shanks, oh that wonderful, stupid, kind, and thoughtful pirate handed her a plate and did not press her. "Let's eat!" he shouted excitedly instead.

This time, it was Anne's turn to laugh.

The food was delicious, as both of them expected — Anne's skill in cooking was quite admirable, and how she could turn a chicken and some vegetables into a meal of such tasty designs, he would never know.

"Ahh," he sighed happily a half an hour later. He set the plate to the side before stretching himself out on the plaid blanket. "That was divine, lass."

"Devine? You're silly," she said, but smiled as she collected their plates, as well as the other dishes, and carried them to the ocean. She sucked in her breath, but pulled off her shoes, hoisted up her skirt, and dipped her feet into the water. It was cold, but it felt amazing, and she took several steps in, having abandoned the dirty dishes at the tide line. How could she have forgotten this sensational feeling... so indescribable it was, as she paced along the sand, digging her toes into it as the waves crashed against her legs in a game to get her to fall?

She hadn't even considered that Shanks may be watching her, and as it was, he was propped up on his elbows as he watched her move further in, eventually discarding her effort to keep her skirt dry and just plunging herself into the water. She re-emerged only a few seconds later, spluttering the water out of her mouth, but wearing a smile Shanks had never seen on her lips before. She was absolutely stunning when she wasn't furious.

It was clear to Shanks that there were many things he didn't know about Annie, and he wasn't necessarily sure she would divulge on these secrets, but for now, he just wanted to watch her as she moved around in the water, lost in her own thoughts.

Anne had kept herself in the water as long as she could stand it, but eventually, she carried her sopping wet body back to the blanket and sat herself beside the pirate. Shanks wrapped the towels he had brought around her shivering frame and grinned as she moved closer against him, her body naturally attracted to his heat. "You're lucky I brought a second towel," he murmured as he slid her closer until she was pressed against the side of his chest. Anne continued shivering.

"Oh? And why is that? Did you really believe I was going to swim?"

Shanks shook his head. "Nope," he replied honestly. "But I was going to drag you in with me."

Anne's head came up and she scowled. "No! You wouldn't... really? You were planning to drag me into the water? And what if I had some kind of panic attack and nearly drowned? Would you have wanted that?"

"Well... I was planning to keep you in my arms," he admitted, grinning sheepishly as he patted the back of his head while his arm around her tightened. Anne fell silent and just leaned her head closer to his chest.

"Don't be an idiot." Her tone was no longer teasing or furious sounding, but firm and cold. Shanks glanced down at her and moved his hand back down to stroke her hair.

"What's this about?"

"We both know you're leaving. After the sake festival, yes? So... we should keep this as... as nothing. We don't need any kind of complication, Shanks, and I know what you're up to."

Shanks snorted. "Well, it's not like this is all coming from just me."

Anne ignored him.

"I mean it," she murmured, but pressed her face even closer. She felt his chest rise as he released a resound sigh.

"If you insist," he agreed. "But I think all of my hard work deserves a little compensation, don't ya think, lass?"

The look on Anne's face as she glanced up at him told him she had no idea what he was referring to, and with that adorably unaware expression she had, he cupped both of her cheeks and leaned down to take her in a kiss. There was no protest from Anne as she leaned up against his chest and wrapped her arms around his neck.

The kiss was unlike anything a man had given her before. She'd had a few men tease her lips, but Shanks was something completely different. He produced a feeling so foreign to her, that it terrified her, yet at the same time, she couldn't pull away. It was silly, stupid, and ridiculous for her to be doing this now, when they had both just established and that an acquaintanceship was in order, but she wouldn't have dared to pull away even if the entire townsfolk had caught them — this was it. What it was, she didn't know, but it was something and she wanted it.

Shanks couldn't think as deeply as his lips moved against hers, as really, the only thing he knew he wanted at that point was her, and as for the time being she was in his possession, no other thoughts were quite necessary, though she had surprised him with her own eagerness for the kiss.

He simply couldn't read her — and right now, he didn't want to.

Ages could have past as they embraced one another, occasionally pausing for a breath but resuming with more eager passion only a moment later. There was no reason for either to stop, and with Anne now sitting directly in Shanks' lap, he wasn't sure he could handle being separated from her, at least for the time being. Maybe he'd resume coherent thought in an hour... or a year.

And quite suddenly, Shanks felt a particular coldness against his throat that he had not felt for weeks, and with easier muster than he believed he had, he gently pulled away from Anne.

"Don't move," he warned her immediately, but Anne had already seen it, and she gasped.

"You're that pirate..."

A second blade protruded from Shanks' peripheral vision and pointed directly at Anne's chest. She swallowed, but silenced herself immediately. Shanks, however, could feel his rage building.

"Ah, so it's you," he murmured through gritted teeth. He was not one to be angry, but the interruption of his time with Anne and the bastard's audacity to threaten her was not a call for politeness, regardless of the fact that it was he who was in power. Currently, that is.

"I expected to find you in the bar, not with a woman," came the cold reply as his attacker shifted to the side. "You, wench: move."

Anne didn't need to be told twice as she rose to her feet. While she attempted to quickly secure the towel around her frame, her assailant shoved her to the sand and stood in front of Shanks, expressing no interest at all in the woman.

"Grab your sword."

"You know, a real man would at least give his rival the decency to finish a very, very good night," Shanks pointed out as the blade against his throat retracted. Cautiously, he rose to his feet, lifting the sword he had removed from his belt earlier with him. Unsheathing it, he faced his adversary with a scowl.

"I have no care for your personal business. Just our own."

Shanks snorted, but glared at the piercing gold eyes of the swordsman: it was never quite easy to run away from 'Hawkeye' Mihawk.


	7. Chapter 6

Yeah. So.

I don't really have much to say.

This chapter... is yeah. Yes. Yeah.

Okay. Enjoy reading.

* * *

Anne watched with wide eyes as the two men began to fight, metal hitting metal. She had seen sword-fights between pirates and navy personnel, sure, but this was unlike anything she had ever read about in one of her stories. Shanks, the stupid pirate she had been kissing only moments before was now in battle against Dracule Mihawk, a pirate so powerful even Anne hadn't missed his portfolio. There was a bounty with his face hanging in _The Rotting Fish_(although, she had to admit: all of the bounties, especially Shanks', were there merely to glorify pirates rather than encourage anyone to go after one). He was just as frightening in person as the image that used to give her chills every time she walked by, and now, this master swordsman was battling Shanks.

"Oh, god," she whispered.

Shanks, meanwhile, was merely focusing on himself. He thought he knew Dracule well enough to never expect him to bring Anne into one of their matches; she was, after all, merely an unfortunate witness to a fight that Shanks knew was going to hurt later on. Mihawk was notable for being fearsome and deadly, but for also holding the highest honour amongst any man of the sea – Anne would be perfectly safe during their fight. It was his own life he was concerned about.

"Try not to make this too bloody, Hawkeyes; you ruined my last shirt," Shanks joked as he made a quick dive to avoid one of Mihawk's hits, but was slashed in the shoulder by his second blade. Wincing, he shook his head.

"Since when did you fight with two swords, Hawkeyes?" he grunted as he took a step back and rubbed his shoulder. Mihawk gazed at him with almost no expression visible on his defined face.

"It's an experiment; I'm testing a new sword."

Shanks nodded as if he understood, but at that moment, all he really got was that he was, again, at a disadvantage and appearing as a weakling in front of Anne, whose concern and fear was very evident, even though she had moved a fair distance away from them. Shanks was no weakling – he didn't like to boast, but he was fully aware of his capabilities – but at the moment, he felt clumsy and stupid.

This was completely Anne's fault.

"Anne!" he shouted a moment later after Mihawk had slashed his chest. "Do you mind... climbing... up the hill? And just... just not being here... until I get you?"

Anne watched as the two of them continued to swing at each other and was about to protest when she finally saw Shanks cut into one of Dracule's legs. Relieved, she realised he was fully capable of handling his own and her presence was most likely making him uneasy.

"Yes! I'm moving."

As she ascended up the hill, Shanks began to relax again, and his focus returned to Mihawk entirely.

"Isn't she gorgeous?" Shanks sighed happily. "Can't you see what an inconvenience you are for me right now?"

"Shut up," Mihawk responded with cold fashion. His arms were in constant motion, whether jutting forward for an assault, or retreating for defence. Shanks, however, was not a weak opponent, and he was making things extremely difficult. With Anne no longer present, he was no longer performing so pathetically – it was just like the last time.

"I think I'm going to win this round," Shanks grinned at him as he fell onto his back and rolled to avoid the sharp blade. "Maybe you should just fight with one sword, so it doesn't appear as embarrassing when I do."

Mihawk smirked as he swiped the red-haired man's left shoulder. "Getting scared?"

"No – I just want to make out with the pretty lady up there."

Mihawk's eyes actually rolled.

"Should I threaten her? Would that excite you more?"

Shanks frowned. "I'm excited... I had been thinking we would meet up soon. Say, I'll buy you a bottle of rum, as an apology for when you lose."

Mihawk snorted. "I'll take her as my prize instead."

Shanks stopped for a moment, staring at him with an open mouth and wide eyes.

"Don't be like that!" he shouted. "SAY YOU'RE KIDDING!"

However, his adversary's gold eyes glinted in the moonlight, and for once, a smirk was on his lips. "I think it's about time you take this seriously."

* * *

Anne gazed into the piercing and potent eyes of Dracule Mihawk as he supported himself on top of her. Both his hands were placed on either side of her head while his knees gripped at her hips tightly. Her own hands rested on her chest, clenching one another as she tried to ignore the sickening sensation forming in her stomach – she couldn't believe this was happening.

"It won't last forever," he murmured as his head bent down and his lips met her earlobe. She gasped softly while his tongue swept the shape of her flesh. Desperate, Anne turned her head onto the side, trying to dispel him as well as catch a glimpse of Shanks. Her red-headed pirate, however, was still unconscious, and hadn't stirred in the slightest.

Anne was alone.

"Dont," she warned as his teeth scraped against the edge of her ear. It wasn't painful, but she didn't need any pleasuring feelings conflicting her mind right now – she didn't want this pirate, especially after what he had just done.

"You can't stop me."

Immediately, her hands were collected by the wrists and shoved above her head, though abandoned as Mihawk pulled out a small dagger and used it to cut the front of her dress open. Anne's hands attempted to shove him back by his shoulders, but it was a mixture of her being too weak and him being too strong that prevented any kind of distilment in his path.

"Stop!"

Her heart raced as the band of her bra was severed and her breasts were exposed to his eye. This isn't happening, this isn't happening, she told herself, but tears slipped down her cheeks when Mihawk's mouth descended upon her neck and she felt his tongue trace faint circles against it.

"No..."

Mihawk said nothing, as he had absolutely no care for her except the one thing she could offer him at this time: an opportunity to truly harm Shanks. The idiotic smile had never fared well with him, and he knew without a doubt that there would be no more stupid banter the next time they encountered one another – next time, it would be a real duel.

Anne cried as the pirate nipped at her neck while her hands scrambled above her head, reaching for some kind of leverage to grip on so she could pull herself away, when instead, her fist enclosed around the neck of a bottle. Anne instantly stilled, though it had more to do with the fact that Mihawk's mouth had just descended to her breast. With very little time to think, she gripped the bottle firmly before using it to smash onto his head. It must have worked, because Mihawk's entire weight dropped upon her, though she didn't dare move in case it was just from pain.

But it wasn't – she had just knocked out a dangerous pirate.

When Anne had finally managed to crawl out from under him, she put some distance between them before glancing back at Shanks. There he was, knocked unconscious by the brunt of Mihawk's sword, though apparently that had been accident. Then there was the wretched evilness that lay only a few feet away, who had just been knocked unconscious by _her_. It would have been a victory if she didn't feel so terrified. He had been so _close_.

She took a moment to calm her nerves, but with the eventual realisation that she wasn't capable of helping Shanks out of the cove, she trudged up the hill for a second time and started walking towards the village. She would ask the first man she encountered to help her carry Shanks back to her cottage (where in the morning she would make sure Ben picked him up), and hopefully, have him help her carry Hawkeyes Mihawk into the ocean to drown, which the bastard deserved.

She only had to walk a small distance before she spotted a figure walking down the path into town. She squinted into the dark, but couldn't make out their appearance, and so took a deep breath, gathered the front of her dress in her hands to hide her exposure, and took off running. The figure had noticed her almost immediately and had stopped, waiting patiently. As he came into view, Anne slowed down and scowled.

"Tim," she greeted coldly.

Tim, the owner of _The Rotting Fish_, glared back at her with gray, steely eyes. "What are you doing out so late? Shouldn't you be getting your beauty sleep, princess?" he sneered.

Anne shook her head. "No. Actually, I was out to dinner with Shanks-"

"The poor man..."

"-when we were attacked by that evil pirate. Mihawk," she finished.

Tim raised his eyebrow. "And? What happened?"

The young woman swallowed. "Shanks... got knocked out. And I... I hit him... Mihawk, I mean, with a... a bottle. And he's unconscious as well."

"You took down Hawkeyes?"

"Well, it wasn't really dramatic. I highly doubt it would have happened if he hadn't... been preoccupied."

It was then that Tim finally noticed Anne clutching the front of her dress together. To her horror, he appeared amused by it, and his eyes flickered to behind her head. "Should we go and collect Shanks, then?"

Feeling numb and nauseous, Anne merely nodded her head. She lead the bar owner back to the cove, where he told her to wait at the hill as he trudged down to the beach. He easily hoisted Shanks over his shoulder, and much to horror, reached down and lifted up Mihawk as well. Her eyes narrowed, but she didn't protest – it wasn't ethical, she supposed, to leave him lying in the cove like that. At the very least, he would be locked behind bars for the Sheriff to deal with – she would personally enjoy attending his hanging in the morning, or perhaps even the afternoon.

"Do you want to get your shit? Because I'm not carrying it," Tim grunted as he started walking back towards the path. Anne followed behind him, her eyes on Shanks. She had taken off his straw hat in case it had fallen, and there was a huge, bloody bruise on the side of his temple where Mihawk had accidentally hit him.

"I'll get it tomorrow," she murmured, her voice much softer than before. Tim raised an eyebrow but ignored it – he just didn't care.

Anne informed him to drop Shanks off at her home, to which Tim replied with a nod of his head. They made no more conversation; as really, either of them liked one another, and they were a case in which silence was golden and blissful.

When Anne's cottage had finally come into view, she broke into a run. She clambered up the steps, unlocked the door, and began lighting the lanterns. Most importantly, she had quickly dodged into her room and grabbed a robe to wrap around herself. The mere presence of her home made her feel safe and less afraid of the night's events.

She listened carefully as Tim's footsteps followed up the stairs and heard him plop Shanks onto the couch.

"Tim, could you please bring him into my bedroom?" she called out. "I want to take care of his wounds!"

"Yeah, yeah; I figured," he growled, and a moment later, appeared with Shanks in his arms, Mihawk nowhere in sight. Instantly, she felt nauseated.

"Where is he? I don't want that thing in my house!"

The middle-aged man ignored her and placed Shanks carefully upon the quilt of Anne's rather large bed. He rolled his eyes at the feminine appearance of the room – or more of that fact that it was a perfectly snooty looking resemblance of its owner – and walked out. Anne waited to hear him collect the man on her couch, but then her door swung open and the sound of fading footsteps echoed.

Anne was bewildered for a moment... and then, she was outraged.

"Are you insane?" she shouted as she began walking down her front steps. "What are you doing?" she screamed after him, her own body trying to chase him down.

"Look, Anne," Tim called back, his tone supported with annoyance. "The navy's not going to be stopping by here any time soon – not with the sake festival just around the corner. Besides, you knocked the man out – at least treat his wounds. Shanks got him good a couple of times – and they're rivals. It's typical behaviour."

His words rooted her to the spot and she stared at his disappearing figure. "Are you... serious?"

But there was no reply. Tim eventually left from what little sight she had in the night, and she had no choice but to retreat up her stairs. When she stepped back inside her home, she saw the man that had nearly raped her, fast asleep and resting on her couch.

There were two things she had to accomplish at this point. The first was simple: she gathered his swords and hid them in her attic; tied his wrists together, as well as his ankles, so he couldn't escape; and locked the door of her home, as well as her bedroom, in a hopeful attempt that she would be safe until the morning when Shanks was hopefully conscious.

Then, she sat herself in the corner of her room, pulled her knees up under her chin, and sobbed.


	8. Chapter 7

**Author's Note:**

Hello, loves.

Now, I have a request. Just a _small, harmless_ request. If you happened to favourite this, enjoy it, have something to say, could you please - pretty please - leave a review? I hate begging for this, but as a writer, it is beyond frustrating to receive constant favourites, yet no reviews. :/

Really, guys. I'm begging now.

I LOVE YOU, clearly! I published the next one so QUICKLY! It's a treat! :)

ENJOY IT!

* * *

If Anne had been crying the night before, Shanks didn't know it as she sat beside him on her bed, gently rubbing an ointment into one of his many cuts.

"How are you feeling?" she asked. Her eyes refused to meet his, but he could see how rigid her hand was as she applied the medicine — she was concerned for him.

"I'm fine, lass," he replied with ease. He flashed her one of his largest smiles, but it went unnoticed. She merely continued with his wounds, bandaging them as she finished, and when all of his injuries had been attended to — the last one being the huge egg on his temple — she bent down and served him a quick kiss.

"Rest," she ordered, and left the room before he could make another comment.

Shanks sat back and grinned stupidly.

It was out in the hallway, away from the sanctity of her room, that Anne's fear returned to her. Shanks' presence served as some kind of protection for her — she felt safe. Now that she was away, she couldn't ignore the fear that lay dormant in the pit of her chest. She listened intently, praying to her lord and worship that _he_was still asleep. The sun had only just risen — Shanks most likely was going to return to sleep, but even if he didn't, how was he supposed to fight again Mihawk in his current state?

Nervously, she ventured down the hall and into her sitting room. The room was bathed in an orange glow, as the sun began rising from the sea. Anne paused for a long moment to admire it, before hesitantly approaching the couch. When she peeked over, there was no one there.

"Sha-"

"I'm in here."

His voice was so cold, and although he hadn't said it, Anne heard the command that told her to go to him. Her eyes flickered down the hall to stare at her bedroom where she knew Shanks would only be drifting off to sleep — it wouldn't take much to gain his attention. But Shanks was in no position to be coming to her rescue. The rise of fear in her chest, though, told her it wasn't worth it, and as she tip-toed down the hall, intent on being in Shanks' protective embrace, she suddenly felt a firm grip on her upper arm and was dragged backwards into Mihawk's stone, rigid chest.

Anne didn't dare to fare a glimpse of his face — she knew her life was in more danger than it had ever been. While luck — unbelievable, sheer, dumb _luck_— had aided her the night before, she had almost nothing to protect her, except an injured, red-headed pirate.

Mihawk dragged her back with him into the kitchen. It, too, was filled with the morning orange glow, and as Mihawk sat himself at her dining table, she turned around to face him. The cuts on his arms and chest had been ignored — Anne remembered he had also been cut on the leg, and she saw it as he lifted his feet onto her table. The quarrel in her mind to resist shouting at his obscene behaviour was won by common sense: she was in no position to order him around. She wasn't even sure if she could speak at this point.

"Make my breakfast, girl. Now," he ordered simply as his eyes lazily strolled over her body. Anne was a dull character; why Shanks was wasting his time on a woman with such a simple personality, he didn't know, and he really didn't care to find out if there was more to this girl. She would be quite fortunate if he decided not to kill her.

Meanwhile, the young woman was heating up her oven as she tried to find a way out of this situation. Nothing seemed available at this point — she would be a complete and utter idiot if she attempted to attack him with a kitchen knife; he was, after all, a master swordsman. Instead, she decided on small talk in an attempt to dissuade him from thinking. Who knew what he was planning in his mind?

"How did you get out of the rope?" she asked. She opened the fridge and withdrew a carton of eggs. "Two or three?"

"Four, " he replied. He paused for a moment before snorting. "And ropes couldn't bind me if they were done by a professional Navy dog, stupid girl."

Anne glared into the bowl as she cracked the eggs into them. "I had to try something; it wasn't my idea to keep you in my house."

"And I doubt you were the one to drag me back here," Mihawk mused. She shrugged.

"It was an... acquaintance. Apparently, your life is worth something."

"I'd have preferred a hotel," Mihawk responded carelessly. Anne turned to him and glared.

"Then LEAVE! I'd be more than happy to book it for you!"

Mihawk had appeared in front of her faster than she'd had time to catch her breath. The glare on her face vanished as she was shoved up against the counter — the countertop digging into her lower back — and her head slammed back against a cupboard. It felt as though every sensor in her body was in agony as Mihawk's own figure covered the proximity of her front side. His face, however, hovered above hers where a bored expression met her on.

"You're not worth taking — the morning light shows you much clearer."

Anne swallowed, not allowing herself to speak. Her hands felt for behind her, and to her surprise, she felt the smooth glass of the bottle that held her cooking oil. Her breath caught as she felt it jerked away and Mihawk studied it amused.

"Ah. That's right."

He gripped the neck of the bottle, studying it for a moment, before he smashed it against the cupboard space directly above her head. The door caved in and glass showered into the brunette's hair, inducing her to cry out, but Mihawk didn't so much as blink at the glass that had embedded into his flesh. The oil that slipped through his open wounds didn't so much as faze him, though Anne was on the verge of tears.

"S-Stop!" she begged as her hands moved through her hair, collecting glass and spreading the oil through it. She had yet to notice the blood, but even her messy appearance wasn't the thought premises on her mind right now; she had managed to piss him off, again.

"Luck is a very interesting concept, don't you think?" he murmured as his hands moved down and stroked her upper arms. She nodded her head in agreement, but winced as the glass protruding from his hands scratched against her skin. Still, she didn't protest him.

"Your luck was for last night — but you have nothing right now. I suggest you learn your place, because I won't hesitate to kill you."

His piercing eyes once again bore into her, and there was very little she could think of, except one thing. "Would you... like me to return... your possessions?"

Mihawk studied her for a moment, his eyebrow raised in what she would have called amusement, but no trace of anything but seriousness lived on his features.

"Now."

He released her from his grip and moved to the side, allowing her to brush past as she scurried to the hallway. She managed to pull the ladder down from the attic on her fifth jump, and then clambered up the steps where, right where she had left them, his swords resided. Being very careful as she gathered them into her arms, she cautiously tip-toed down the ladder, being sure to place both feet on a step and not go too fast. Of course, as Mihawk had pointed out, Anne's luck from the night before was long gone, and she tripped on the last step, heading face-first into the floor when from behind, she once again felt the strength of Mihawk's defined arms pull her back.

"S-Sorry."

"Don't be."

He straightened her up, his eyes flickering over her face for a moment before he collected his belongings. She hadn't tampered with them, but he hadn't expected her too — it was part of her naivety, her stupidity that lead her to believe that simply by tying his wrists and hiding his weapons he would no longer pose as a threat to her. If such silliness had been true, she wouldn't have been at his mercy the night before. Unfortunately, he had to give her credit for one thing: she had caught him off guard last night. He hadn't in the slightest expected her to fight back, but maybe that's why he should have used his haki on her.

No, she was too insignificant for that. He had been right in his decision. He just had to make sure that her act of luck remained... between the two of them.

"I'm going to be leaving," he stated, and the gloom on her face brightened considerably at those words. He repressed a smirk and gripped her chin. "But you will never repeat last night again. If I ever have to hear of it, not only will I kill the people you told, but I'll come back for you."

"I really would prefer that last night never happened," Anne murmured back in agreement. Mihawk nodded his head and released his grip on her. As he was about to turn away, she frowned.

"Wait, aren't you going to eat first?"

Much to her horror and disbelief, she heard the swordsman laugh.

"Whahahahaha! You stupid woman."

"Wha — How am I stupid?" she countered weakly, still unnerved by his laugh. He had the most terrifying disposition of anyone she'd ever _heard_of; even Gold Roger hadn't been terrifying in the past. How could he still have the ability to laugh?

Mihawk turned back to her, and there was some kind of expression on his face: a smirk. "Do you want to do my laundry for me as well? Nurse me back to health? I would assume all women are like this, but I've actually encountered some with better things to do than their... traditional jobs."

Anne's face fumed a scarlet colour; she wasn't sure if it was anger or embarrassment she was feeling. She wasn't sure why she even suggested he eat — it had just been _that_, though: a stupid suggestion. She regretted it as he stood there with a gaze that made her feel pathetic. She hated men. She really, truly detested them.

"Get out," she ordered then, and to her surprise, Mihawk left without any other threat or comment. She waited until the sounds of his footsteps reached the sand before leaning herself against the wall of her hallway. He was gone, finally gone.

It was then that Anne decided to use the eggs to make an omelette for Shanks in celebration of Sir Evil and Crazy's departure. Without any care for her guest's sleeping hours — again, she was much too thrilled over the absence of Mihawk — she disrupted him from his slumber and shoved the plate of food into his unstable arms. The exhausted man nearly tipped the plate but managed to grasp it as his eyes adjusted to the light that had now settled in the room; the orange glow was gone.

"Eat!" she commanded as she sat beside him. Shanks turned his head and grinned.

"All for me?"

"Obviously. Just eat it, Shanks."

The red-headed pirate glanced down at the food, and he finally felt the over-whelming sensation of hunger. Eagerly, he grabbed the fork and started to shovel the omelette into his mouth, ignoring his brain's demands for him to chew — he felt absolutely famished.

"You are such a pig," Anne murmured in disgust, though Shanks paid her comment no attention. Her food was delicious, and really, he was used to her negative perception of him by now. As long as he got a kiss from her later, he didn't really care what she said.

"Hmmm," he groaned happily after licking the plate clean. Anne snatched it out of his hands, tempting with the thought to smack him, but instead just placed it on her bed-side table.

"I'm glad you enjoyed it," she replied curtly.

Shanks nodded and leaned back into the covers, his eyes focusing on the ceiling for a moment. He wanted to know what had happened the previous night, but more importantly, he wanted to make-out with Anne's pretty mouth. Mihawk would surely still be in town and he could challenge him to a rematch after his wounds finished healing, which wouldn't be too long. This time, he'd make sure Anne wasn't anywhere near him when they fought, though. She was too great of a distraction, and in truth, he felt like a smitten dog when she was in his presence.

"Come here," he murmured as he broke out of his trance. She raised an eyebrow at him.

"Why?"

Shanks grinned.

"'Cause. Come here, lass," he ordered her again, and when she rolled her eyes at him, he jerked forward, secured his arms around her waist, and pulled her down on top of him. Anne's surprise gave him an advantage, and before she tried to assault him, he turned her head and kissed her.

Ah, heaven.

* * *

"Thank you for coming by," Anne said as Ben helped to heave Shanks off of her bed. The first mate shook his head, claimed it was his duty, and shifted his captain's arm over his neck. Anne was holding Shanks by his other side, though she was much too weak to really be contributing anything — Shanks was just groping her ass without Ben's knowledge.

"I'll be seeing you again," he chuckled as Ben started to lead him out of the room. Anne gave him a warning look that held a promise of murderous intent, but followed the pair as they walked to her front door. She held it open for them, but just as Shanks passed by her, he gave her another kiss and grinned.

"I'll come back!"

"Don't bother," she growled, annoyed by his public display of affection. Ben kept his smile hidden as he allowed the two of them have their moment.

"Aww, Annie, don't be like that, love!" Shanks groaned. "We had a good time last time — and one heluva a time this morning-"

Anne smacked him across the face, then, and glared. "You call last night FUN? Some pirate randomly shows up on the beach, defeats your pathetic self in a sword fight, and then I have to get that asshole, Tim, to lug you up here! How in the good lord's name is that FUN?"

"Oh, I didn't think that was fun — well, it was fun seeing Mihawk again. Great swordsman, as much of a pain in the arse he is. But I thought you and I — "

Anne held up her hand.

"I get it. Enough."

Shanks smiled and shook his head. "Admit it, Annie: you'll misssss me."

"I'll be devastated," she replied sarcastically.

"I'll be back soon!"

"Is that a warning that I should pack up and leave?"

Shanks sighed. "One last kiss!"

"You've had ENOUGH kisses!"

He snorted. "You're crazy. I promise: our next date will be better."

"There won't be a next time!"

"Yes, there will! I'll just make sure it's in a more private spot this time. And I'll duel Mihawk ahead of time."

"Then you'll be in the infirmary for the next six days."

"You're so cute when you're mean."

"You're an idiot."

Ben continued to stand there, casually glanced away as their banter continued. He had to admit, Anne had opened up a considerable amount — although she still had her vicious tongue, there was playfulness in the way she attacked Shanks.

Suddenly, he wondered if this was their kind of foreplay.

"One last kiss, and I'll go," Shanks promised. Anne stared in the red-headed captain's eyes, before finally leaning up and placing a soft kiss against his lips. Shanks returned it eagerly, and when she had pulled away, turned to Ben.

"Now back to the ship!"

Ben nodded. "Good-bye, Anne."

"Good-bye. Again, thank you for taking out the trash."

When Shanks turned back to send her a smile, this time, Anne returned it.


	9. Chapter 8

**Author's Note: **Alllllleeeeewaaaaaaah? I actually updated? Holy cow!

NPNP is definitely not on hiatus, I'm just a pain in the butt when it comes to updating. I'm aiming to finish the ninth chapter before the end of this month, but as per usual, don't quote me on that. This one was a lot of fun to write, simply because I started re-reading the One Piece manga, and it surged my inspiration. I'm in a One Piece mood!

I want to say a huge thank you to all of you have dedicated your time reading this story! On the last chapter, not only did I receive 14 reviews, but over twenty-five people favourited or alerted this story! That's incredible! You guys are mega, mega awesome!

I'm coming to the end of my first semester, and next semester is going to be an incredible gong-show. Life may intrude on any writing I want to get done, but I will do my best! Always! That being said, I've started publishing a Naruto series, titled 99 Secrets. It features Kakashi and I've written it in a style that allows for smaller instalments, therefore more frequent updates. If any of you want to check it out, be my guest!

Anyway, that's all! I don't want to keep you from the story anymore. Please, enjoy!

-arrows&roses

* * *

She needed to bake muffins.

Anne stared at the bowl filled with batter, a frown on her lovely features as she contemplated the procedure. Should she add fruit or chocolate? Leave them regular, or perhaps sweet? She wanted to surprise Shanks without seeming as though she really cared for him, period. According to Lucky Roo, whom she had encountered in the market earlier that morning, Shanks' recovery was panning nicely, and he would be more than capable of participating in the upcoming sake festival. Still, he remained bed-ridden, although she suspected he wasn't alone – when she paid him a visit later that day, she was certain she would find several bottles, empty and full, of rum and sake.

Although she wasn't aware of Shanks' typical habits, she couldn't view piracy as a healthy lifestyle. The amount of time spent on the sea, away from land, risked all of them to contract diseases and health conditions, not to mention poor eating habits. There was no possibility of her deterring Shanks from his drinking impulsion, but she wanted to at least see a change in his diet. And with that, she decided on blueberry muffins.

The process wasn't anything complicated – it took her a mere ten minutes to prep all of them. The baking took a little longer, though she swept the floor of the kitchen and tidied up her work station as she waited. She had prepared a basket to hold the pastries once they had cooled down. It was perhaps a little silly to be using it, but she wanted to appear friendly in her gesture, rather than eager. Although Anne couldn't deny her attraction for him – and it angered her very much – the two of them had yet to establish what they were. There had been too serious an interruption at the time.

However, now that he was rehabilitating, Anne couldn't see any reason to delay the discussion. Shanks needed to acknowledge the fact that they were in a bind; what were the possibilities available to them? And most importantly, what did each of them want?

Unfortunately, she wasn't even sure if she knew what she wanted.

When the muffins were ready, Anne left her sea-side cottage and headed into the Port. The weather was a little downcast, with gray clouds blanketing the island. It wasn't common for rainy days, but they did arrive on occasion, although she didn't expect it to last too long – at least, so she hoped. The market was still full as she arrived, as although the weather promised instability, the villagers couldn't sacrifice their schedules. Items still needed to be sold and purchased.

As she paced through the market, dodging between people while trying to keep her balance, she spotted the appearance of someone she had been avoiding since he left her home: Mihawk. He was arguing with a vendor over some products, and as she grew closer, she spotted they were knives and swords. Hoping to avoid a confrontation, she edged past a couple trying to decide on a piece of furniture, but felt a grip just as she had moved past the stall. Without wishing to begin any dramatics, she calmly turned to face him.

"What do you want?"

Mihawk raised an eyebrow at the muffins, "You really are a little housewife."

Anne contested, "I am not! This is just a gift for Shanks. Shouldn't you be resting as well?"

"I have to eat at some point today," he replied coldly, before his eyes flickered back to the haggard man selling weapons. "You couldn't slice through bread with those."

Anne raised her eyebrow, before shrugging uncaringly. "Well, with bread you need a more serrated knife, anyway..." She caught his glare and stopped herself, "but yes, he doesn't have the best... quality."

Mihawk realized he was still gripping her arm and released it. His eyes flickered over her face, noticing her own eyes as they peered up at him. Her eyebrows were burrowed into a worried frown, and he could easily read that she was apprehensive.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he attempted to assure her. Anne shook her head.

"I have decided that I really don't trust you," she countered. Mihawk smirked slightly and shrugged.

"I don't care."

"Of course you don't," she sighed. "Pirates don't care about anything, do they?"

"Am I to speak for every single one of them?" he inquired, his tone featuring a more dull tone. She was boring him with her prejudices. "Your idiot pirate seems to care about you."

Anne glared, "He is not _my_ pirate! He is just _a_ pirate and we are just..."

Her voice trailed off. She couldn't even think of a substitute word to describe what they were. Or, perhaps, she could.

"Complicated," she finished.

Mihawk yawned.

"You're very rude!" Anne accused. Mihawk turned away from her as he spotted a booth selling fruit. It wasn't what he wanted, but he didn't want to buy raw pork, either, and the hotel didn't have a stove. He could venture off to a restaurant, but they were charging double for pirates, especially those with bounties, because of the upcoming sake festival. Being a celebrity didn't hold very many benefits if you were on the other side of the law.

"Woman," he suddenly barked. Anne had already been walking down the street again, furious with his disinterest, but paused to glance over her shoulder.

"Yes?"

"Make me breakfast when you return."

Anne glared at him, "You never ate it last time!"

His eyes glared into hers. "I'm staying in the Mermaid's Cove. Room 12. Bring it there."

Without having anything that didn't include a series of profanity to say, Anne left silently.

* * *

"ANNIE!"

Said woman flinched as the high decibels caused her earlobes to tremble. She sent a glare in Shanks direction before her eyes flickered over the captain's quarters. Much like she had expected, it was disgusting and filthy. _Very _disgusting and filthy.

"Shanks, how can you live in here? That _smell_..."

Anne relieved a handkerchief from her pocket and used it to cover her mouth and nose. Several rancid smells were emitting from the skanky piles of moulded food, musky clothes, and the mountainous collection of bottles that had once contained sake and rum. She moved along the tips of her toes, cautiously manoeuvring herself in the hopes of avoiding the grime that also stained the wooden floorboards.

My god, she didn't care if their conversation today lead to a permanent separation – she was going to clean this damned room before it killed him.

"Get out of here. Now," she ordered as she finally reached his bed. He was laying on a thin, matted mattress that had taken its toll over the years. It could have once been white – she didn't know, but whatever it was now, it didn't look healthy. "I can't believe you, Shanks," she whispered as she made her way out of the room again. "This is the most... disgusting... I think I may throw up!"

She dashed out of the room to emerge herself in fresh air and took a deep breath of relief. Shanks followed behind her, much slower because of his injuries, though leaned against the side of his cabin. His eyes watched her, his genuine smile returned to his features, and using his one arm, draped it around her waist.

"I'd be more than happy to stay with you," he murmured against her ear. His tongue peaked out past his lips and trailed along her lobe for a moment before he took the piece of flesh between his teeth. Anne gasped – her surprise was surmountable – and with quavering hands, shoved his face to the side.

"Don't!"

He smiled back at her, "Alrigh', lass."

Anne glared in reply as she tried to regain her composure, though was failing. His actions hadn't generated a horrible feeling; actually, it had been more than pleasant. What he did – that... biting thing, had been quite pleasuring, in fact. However, she felt flustered over her own reaction to him. It was so silly to lose her head completely over such an otherwise harmless touch. As long as she wasn't blushing, she really hoped that they could go to the discussion that most interested her: them.

"Why did you do that?" she asked instead, her curiosity overcoming her interest. Shanks leaned forward and pecked her cheek.

"For this."

Ah, so she was blushing.

"You're a jerk..." she murmured softly, and for a moment, decided to forget why she had visited him in the first place and stood in place while his lips ventured over her face, planting them with kisses before he finally rediscovered her lips and tasted them.

How many times could he possibly ascend before God finally kept her?

However, it was over quite suddenly – Anne heard the footsteps of Ben as he made his way onto the upper deck and she put a good distance between her and Shanks as his head appeared into view. Shanks was still smiling, trying to engrave the feel of her lips into his permanent storage of memory that he hadn't really heard Ben as he asked him a question. Anne angrily reached over and pinched his arm, to which Shanks absently took her hand.

"Wha?"

"Shanks," she hissed. Her eyes glared into him and he quickly glanced up at Ben.

Ben raised his eyebrow, "Did I miss something?"

"We're getting married," Shanks announced, smiling proudly.

Anne swallowed thickly as she tried her very best to not think of that – because really, she could not imagine anything worse – and she immediately removed her hand from his grasp.

"Don't be stupid," she mumbled as she turned away and casually brushed at her dress, straightening it from the wind's teasing. She tried her best to hide the discomfort she had just experienced, and considering they were men – and damned pirates, for that matter – she suspected they hadn't thought about her reaction beyond her instant separation and name-calling.

"The crew's going to disperse for the day. I don't imagine you care, but I thought you should know."

Shanks nodded his head understandingly, and Ben gave another glance to Anne before he left. As he retreated, she turned back to Shanks.

"Don't say things that you don't mean."

"Oh, come on, lass, I was kidding!"

"I know you were, but it's very rude."

"Why? You wanna get married, love?"

"You're disgusting," Anne replied immediately, a very obvious look of disgust present on her face. "And it's not just your personality. Your room, your lifestyle – why is everything about you so repulsive?"

Shanks shrugged before grinning and sending her an air-kiss. Anne's hand whipped up and planted across his mouth, though Shanks took the initiative to kiss her palm.

"Why don't I stay with you, love?"

She swallowed as she watched him. His eyes were closed and his greasy hair slid across her skin as he continued lying kisses over the entirety of her limb. However, Anne wasn't disgusted or repulsed.

Rather, she sighed, "I suppose that would be for the best."

His mouth continued travelling across her hand, laying kisses on her soft skin. Her hand was small, seemingly delicate in his rough grasp, and after one final kiss on the center of it, he dropped his arm to his side, taking her with him.

Anne was unsure of how to feel. She had never dealt with seduction techniques quite like this. He was certainly something else, or more of someone else. He sent her another smile before turning his head to glance back into the horrid state of his room. "I don't think I need anything from here..."

"You'll be fine at my home," she assured him.

"What about clothes? Or will we not need those?"

She sighed again; she felt frustrated by his joking matter over a subject she personally was so unsure of. "We really need to discuss that, don't you think? You'll be leaving soon... We've already been over this. What we're doing right now is stupid."

His black eyes bore into her for a moment as he contemplated that, but eventually, he just gave another shrug. "Let's go back to your place, then, and we'll talk about it there. With our clothes on," he added with a mischievous grin.

Anne didn't laugh, though the corner of her mouth twitched. That was enough for Shanks and he gave her hand a tight squeeze before they made their way off the ship. Several crew members were still on board, and he warned them not to leave it unguarded. It was as they descended the ramp that Shanks noticed the basket tucked under her arm.

"What's that?" he asked curiously, as the content had been hidden with a small blanket. Anne glanced down and finally smiled.

"Muffins. I thought they'd be a healthier breakfast."

She pulled the blanket aside, allowing him to see the delicious pastries covered in bulging, blue spots. Shanks eagerly grabbed one and shoved it into his mouth, immediately savouring the flavour.

"Oh," he groaned. He took a moment to chew and then swallow before speaking again. "You're really good at cooking, lass."

Anne nodded slowly. "Well... now, I suppose."

Shanks raised an eyebrow, but she handed him the basket and he continued shovelling muffins in his mouth as they walked.

"Do you need to pick up anything here?" he asked her a little while later as they started shoving through the crowd of the markets. Anne was clutching Shanks' arm as they threaded through when she suddenly stopped moving, causing them to become trapped in an alcove tucked away from the current.

"What is it?" he asked immediately, but she shook her head.

"Mihawk..."

Shanks' head lifted at once as he squinted into the crowd, "I don't see him."

"No, no. I encountered him earlier." She swallowed, "He's a bit of cad, you know. He demanded that I make him breakfast."

Shanks snorted before bursting into a full fit of laughter. Anne's eyes narrowed and she jerked her body away from his. "You are such a –"

"I was a little worried he… you know… liked you, but if all he wants is food…" Shanks shrugged happily. "That's not too bad."

Anne stared at him with a look of disbelief. Of course, Shanks was fully unaware of what had nearly happened to her, but the comment still stung. "He nearly killed you, Shanks," she coldly pointed out. "How can you even say something like that?"

"I don't take it too seriously, lass," he admitted. His eyes flickered over her face where he caught her look of anger and his eyebrows raised in surprise. "Well, plenty of people want to kill me. After a while… you just can't hold a grudge anymore. Not to mention, I like pissing him off. Kinda deserve it sometimes…"

"Shanks…" Anne stared at him in disbelief. The man had attacked him, nearly killed him, and yet Shanks treated it as though the two of them had simply had a child's spat. She felt nauseated, not from anger, but from worry. Shanks was a pirate, but he posed absolutely no threat to her. Mihawk, however, was of such a dangerous calibre that being in his mere presence unnerved her.

"S'okay, Annie. It's just… the life of a pirate. You get to make friends with your enemies or…" He paused for a moment as a serious expression caught up on his face. "Enemies with your friends," he finished quietly.

"I… I guess," she murmured, but she didn't agree at all. She couldn't understand his perspective, and it took all of her self-control not to yell at him, to tell him what an idiot he was for believing that Mihawk was some silly rival and nothing to take seriously.

"Anyway," Shanks moved on cautiously, "you said you have to make him breakfast, right? I'll buy the ingredients for you. We can… talk when we get to your place."

His smile was warm again, and his eyes only saw her as he stared down at her. Again, Anne felt herself unnerved, but the torment in her stomach told her that it was nothing of threatening nature, and her heart's rapid beating was not from fear.

"S-Sure," she agreed.

She had no idea where the discussion would lead them, but she knew she was in trouble, regardless. She really should have stayed away from that damned, red-headed pirate.


	10. Chapter 9

True to his word, Shanks purchased the few ingredients she required to prepare a healthy and substantial breakfast for not only Mihawk, but him as well. He even carried them, though she knew he would. Despite the fact that he was a pirate, Shanks held such a firm sense of chivalry and was more than gentleman-like when it came to her. She had to admit: the fact that he was a pirate seemed less and less impertinent the more she spent around him.

"So," Shanks interrupted her deep thought process. "Will I, uh, be sharing a room with you, or…?"

Anne frowned. She had a guest bedroom located in her home, but the idea of sleeping with Shanks seemed suddenly very comforting. Her mind drifted for a moment, picturing the scene of night against them as she snuggled into his chest, her dreams of few worries and light-hearted adventures.

"We'll see," she answered back quietly, her thoughts still consumed over her feelings, which not even she could really decipher at this point.

The walk to her cottage was short and rather quiet. It wasn't just Anne who was captured by thoughts, but Shanks as well. It took her a moment to register that she was standing outside of her locked door, and with a flushed face, fumbled through her bag for the key. Shanks' eyes flickered over the horizon, a murky cloud of grey looming over the normally bright ocean.

"Ah, I hate this weather," he murmured. Anne twisted the handle, shoving her door open and nodded.

"Let's get inside. It'll start raining soon, and I want this food made before it does."

Shanks nodded. "I'll drop it off to him, lass."

Anne immediately whirled around, stopping Shanks in mid-step as he tried to enter her cottage. "You will not!" she shouted angrily. "Shanks, he nearly killed you! I will take it to him, and you will stay here and rest!"

She noticed his adam's apple as he swallowed; did her temper make him that nervous?

"Alrigh', lass," he agreed. Anne nodded and stepped back, allowing her pirate – sorry, _the_ pirate to enter the home. Once he did, she shut the door, collected the bags of groceries and moved into the kitchen where Shanks trailed behind her, much like the smitten lover that he was.

"So, Annie," he inquired as she began unpacking the food. "You… cook… a lot?"

Her eyebrow rose, though he couldn't see it. Was this his attempt at casual conversation?

"Yes. I only learned about six months ago. I enjoy practicing; it's a helpful skill."

Shanks nodded slowly. "Yeah… Yeah, I guess."

She rolled her eyes as she brought out a knife and began preparing the food. It would be best if she just used everything, for if Mihawk had an appetite like Shanks, there would be no leftovers.

"…I learned to cook from an apprentice of the Cook Pirates. He served on board for a while, but ultimately decided that piracy wasn't his lifestyle. "

Shanks grinned. "Really? I met them once. In a bar, not on the sea. Captain was serving some food in celebration of… eh, I can't remember. Anyway, it tasted perfect with sake, so…"

"Oh, Shanks!" She rolled her eyes. "Can't you eat without the companionship of alcohol?"

"Well, of course I can!" Shanks replied, startled by her apparent irritation. "Just, y'know, alcohol is my healing water."

"Don't be preposterous! Healing… look at you! You're barely useful, and I'm sure you've done nothing but consume alcohol the past few days." She turned from the counter and watched as he played with the hem of his sleeves, rolling them up to his elbow then unravelling them to his wrists. His hair was greasier than what she remembered, and when it slid across his forehead as he glanced up at her, she shook her head.

"You need a bath…"

He grinned. "Will you do the honours?"

A faint pink consumed the high cheekbones of the brunette and she whirled away. "I may have to," she muttered to herself. "It seems as though you've never had one."

Shanks laughed. He enjoyed teasing her as much as she seemed prone to insulting him.

"You're righ', lass. Where's the tub?"

She sighed and shook her head. Despite her gratefulness for his attempt to ease the tension, she needed to bring up her less than desirable subject and finally pin him down – in the non-literal sense, of course.

"Shanks," she began and her tone quavered as she tried to find a balance of seriousness and softness, "we need to sort this all out. I'm a little confused as to where… we… er, are. As one another. As people."

She turned her head off to the side to hide the wretched blush of pink that curved around her cheeks, and cursed herself yet again. She didn't even want to say _couple_ from fear that it would unnerve him as much as it did her. After taking a deep breath, she risked a glance in his direction, though his eyes weren't even on her. He was leaned back in the chair and staring up at the ceiling. His eyes were hooded and his lips firm as he sat there in a state of contemplation. It was almost as if she needed to pinch herself to believe this was real.

"You're very special, Annie. Really, I've met a lot of women. A lot of pretty ones, plenty of scary ones; but you're really, really special."

There was no blush on her cheeks as Anne stood still. Her mind raced with the sweet words that graced along the hurried current of her thoughts and she gripped the edge of the table tightly, as if urging him to continue.

"But," he added, and his tone seemed to grow weaker with each word, "we have no way of lasting. I could never give up the sea; I'm only here for a short time. We only planned to be here for the sake festival. Of course, I could maybe last another week, but that's it. I think it's best if we both keep this in mind as a temporary… thing."

It was as if all the air in the room had suddenly dispersed. Her mouth felt dry and her fingers could no longer maintain their grip on the table; she turned herself, hurriedly, and rested her hip against the counter as she tried to go over the words slowly in her mind. Everything was set in an erratic state, though. She longed to scream at him, to demand he take back his words, to beg him to say it was just a joke, but she just bit her lip instead.

It made sense. It was all true. He was a _pirate_; she told herself this almost every day. There were a number of occasions she had considered saying the exact same phrases to him, albeit different perspectives. But now that it was spoken – and by him – her brain felt wrought from its incapability of rationalizing the simple and logical words.

Her heart charged forward against her chest, slamming into it in a hurried rhythm. If Shanks was speaking, she couldn't tell, because her ears were rushed by the sounds of her bloodstream as it sped throughout her body. Maybe she would faint, split her head open and be spared the humiliation of replying to the exact same thing she had been saying ever since she met the man.

With the adrenaline surging her body, she reacted instantly as her peripheral vision noted him standing up. She wanted to run, but she willed her legs to root to the floor and wait. _Stay still, stay still_, she told herself; it was perhaps the only focus she had to stop herself from completely letting go and sobbing in front of him. She could _never_ forgive herself if she let him see the tears.

"Annie?"

She expected her voice to crack, but the words seem to come freely and with ease. "You're right," she said without any mind of her speech. "You're leaving, and I'm obviously staying."

She laughed, but it was empty. Dull sounding. And it was then that her mind latched onto the only bit of sanity she could handle. "But until then… we can continue as we are… can't we?"

It was then that she finally turned her head. Shanks was almost right beside her, and his face was masked from whatever he was feeling. But the moment she glanced into his eyes, she knew the tears were going to roll, and so without further comments, she sealed the space between them and kissed him. Her arms secured around his neck as she latched onto his body, and her lips moved against his own, setting the eagerness between them. The tears were pouring now, but neither seemed to notice as she lead the kiss to distract her of everything that was suddenly wrong with the world.

How she just wanted to kiss him forever.

hr

Her fist pounded against the worn-down door where a faded plaque softly blazed '12'. The Mermaid's Cove was a cheap hotel where local men would meet up with women much too young for them for a couple hours at a time before scurrying home to their wives. It was a distasteful place, one she often predicted Tim would eventually own, as The Rotting Fish was just down the street. But she could care less for any thoughts of Tim or adulterous husbands, and her fist slammed harder and harder as the terrible mixture of feelings swelled inside her. By the time Mihawk opened the door, she was hunched over and crying.

"Here!" She shoved the basket, its contents hidden by a red checkered blanket, into the pirate's arms as she raised herself up. The tears wouldn't stop, and she was so angry she stormed into his room without any consent and found herself in the water closet.

_Not him_, she thought as she turned on the faucet and cupped her hands beneath, collecting the cold water. She immediately leant down and soaked her face in them, instantly chilling her flesh and bringing a slap of reality to her senses. As she pulled away she inhaled deeply.

Who cares what Mihawk thought? It wasn't as though he had any respect for her before; she didn't need to earn anything from him. He was putrid in his lifestyle and actions, while Shanks… oh, Shanks.

"Is there a reason as to why you're making a mess in my room?"

She glanced up as the pirate leaned himself across the entrance, blocking her means of departure. She snorted and reached for a folded towel hanging off the wall. The material swept along her skin, absorbing the moisture, and when she felt done, she risked a glance in the mirror.

It was dreadful; her hair had escaped from its bun and lay disarrayed across her head. Red patches circled her eyes, her bottom lip remained in a constant quiver, and the colour of her skin seemed transparent in the hollow light. Her eyes eventually flinched away from her appearance and she turned her back from Mihawk.

"…I brought your food. Now let me leave."

"After this show? Humour me with an explanation."

Her eyes narrowed and her slender fingers balled into tiny fists. Without a second's thought – because really, this was quite thoughtless – she turned and made an effort to _hit him_ as hard as she possibly could. Her fist struck his chest, though he didn't move, and that only fueled the rage seething inside the unpolished brunette. She swung back her other arm and struck forward a second time, and continued doing so, switching between both hands in a violent rhythm. Mihawk could give credit where it was due – she had surprised him, and he stood still, not once blocking her hits, nor flinching even if one slightly stung.

It wasn't until she struck his jaw and prompted his irritation that he finally enclosed his hands around her wrists and dragged her out of the room. He expected her to burst into tears again, but she took deep breaths and didn't resist his movements.

"…Shanks?"

"It's none of your business," she said hurriedly. Her eyes flickered to his and she shook her head. "I'm… I'm sorry. I need to go home. Please, let go."

Mihawk, a man of few expressions, frowned. Women were complex, irritating, forgetful; he could go on and on about his thoughts of them. This one embodied many interesting characteristics about her personality, and the reason it irritated him so much was because she left him in a confused state. What was even worse about this confusion was that it derived from the sole curiosity he felt in wanting to _know_ what exactly had her so upset. Upset wasn't even appropriate for the situation – she had lost her grip of sanity right before him.

For a moment, he considered if Shanks had done what he had nearly acted out the night before, but that thought quickly perished. Shanks had made it quite clear about his 'code of honour', and even she had made it obvious in her interest for the red-headed idiot, despite her senseless prejudices.

So why was she so erratic before him?

"Please," she murmured again. Mihawk's eyes flickered towards the open door of his hotel room and he removed his grip on her.

"Go ahead."

He didn't need to involve himself in the drama of this woman's life. It was punishment to let her leave without any knowledge of the situation – punishment for showing any bit of curiosity in the first place.

His eyes followed her as she left the room in a hurried fashion, her heels clipping down the hall. Carelessly, he walked over and closed the door, securing its lock, before returning his attention to the basket he had dumped on the desk tucked away in the corner.

And yet, his appetite wasn't all there.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

****I generally prefer to do the AN at the beginning, but I didn't want to spoil the setting of this chapter, so here it is now.

OH. MY. GOD. I almost bawled like a baby while writing this. It's probably because I'm really attached to the characters and spend practically every day scrounging through their heads, but this was difficult to do. It definitely puts the story in motion, though, and now the fun stuff begins. If any of you have noted the information on my profile, NPNP will have 26 chapters, including the prologue. Right now we've done 10/26. The plot shall thicken!

Thank you to everyone who has stuck with this story, and welcome new readers! Please, tell me what you thought of this chapter, as I'm really curious on your guy's input!

I'm on vacation right now, so you never know if a new chapter is on the horizon! Until then, darlings.


	11. Chapter 10

_I am prepared to be shot. -salutes-_

**No Prey, No Pay - Chapter 10:**

As she stumbled down the narrowed steps of The Mermaid's Cove, all Anne could focus on was the dire need to escape. She had done her best – okay, perhaps that was a lie, but she'd wanted to stay composed and contain the last fragments of dignity in her possession. Clearly, that plan was shot to hell and she cringed while making her way towards the exit.

There were a few stragglers in the bar area, but they were lost in their silly thoughts of women and whatever else it was that men thought about. The hotel keeper, an elderly man named Grus, waved her out, and as she shoved open the door, urging a cry from the slab of wood, the gray blanketing the sky bathed her in its dim light.

She wanted to cry. Her throat squeezed as she did her best to swallow the excess saliva, and her fingers balled into fists along her side as she charged forward in quick steps. Her eyes met no one's, and truth be told, she didn't care if someone recognized the current state she was suffering in. What did it matter to her if she became the town's newest bit of gossip? She felt wretched inside, absolutely despicable, and her mind was on a loop about how it was _all her fault_.

She was the one who isolated Shanks from her emotions in the first place. It didn't work, but she continued with the front that she and Shanks were just temporary. She blatantly ignored the feelings she felt towards the man and let herself get swept away with the playful banter and romantic surprises that made him so… so him.

She never wanted to say another ill word about pirates again. She'd take it all back. Hell, she'd take voyage on a ship for a week if she could just secure the feelings she had for him. Shanks had appeared in a state of adoration every day she saw him; if someone had asked her earlier in the morning, Anne would have been assured that Shanks had genuine, lasting feelings for her. It wasn't to say that he didn't care for her, because that wasn't true. She knew that he would protect her with not a second's thought, and she didn't see him suddenly gallivanting with every other woman in Angel's Port, but she truly was something temporary; a volatile affixation in the red-headed pirate's life.

The tears that brimmed along her lower lids poured over as she slowed her steps before ducking into an alley for some peace. She brought her left arm up to shield her face as she wept into her flesh. How she'd prefer to cry in Shank's chest and have him soothe her. Or at least cry in privacy before returning to his presence and have him hold her.

But Shanks was fully aware that something was wrong. He didn't say a word earlier when Anne had pulled away to wipe her face and finish preparing the meals. His consumed his meal in silence, and only spoke up to ask for a towel and a quick demonstration as to how to pour the bath, as he was unfamiliar with the dials. Afterwards, she had murmured that she was going to bring Mihawk his food and that was it.

"I shouldn't have cried in front of him," she cursed herself.

She never did maintain an act of silence very well.

* * *

The tears were finished for now – at least she prayed that they'd taken a leave of absence for the day – and with only hope to guide her, she made her way into the sea-side cottage she called home. An unfamiliar gray glow ignited her sitting room, but she took very few seconds to admire it before charging towards her bedroom. When she opened the door, she found Shanks, dressed in her bath robe, lounging on her bed.

"Annie!" he greeted. His smile was quick to disappear as caution took over his eyes, but she smiled and moved to his side.

"I see you're clean for once; I'm hardly familiar with the sight."

Once again, his smile returned as he felt relief from her insult. There was something strange in the way she manoeuvered her body around him, but he ignored it to gently reach forward and grasp her elbow.

"Annie, about earlier… I'd really like us to stay the way we are." He bit his lip as he suddenly wondered if that could be misinterpreted, but again, Anne smiled. She bent down and kissed his forehead, enjoying the tickle as his wet hair slid against her cheeks.

"That would be perfect."

His arms wrapped around her body and he brought her down on top of him. She pulled her head away to briefly connect with his eyes, and within moments he had her pinned beneath him, his kiss feverish as he met with her lips. The robe parted along his body, but he ignored it to focus on the task at hand.

Anne's body was marvelous against his own. Perhaps the same could be said about any woman a man found himself deeply intrigued by, but as his fingers roamed over her skin, pressing her closer to his body, and his tongue swept along the curve of her bottom lip, he found her particularly insatiable.

The brunette groaned softly as his hands teased at her flesh, circling her back and roaming further than she'd ever allowed a man in her life. At one point, his hand retracted and moved up to fold around her breast, but her squeak against his mouth changed his mind and he wrapped it around her hips once again. Her legs were lost in a tangle against his, and for a brief moment when their mouths were separated, he took the opportunity to trail kisses along her neck.

Her breath was hitched in her throat and she arched her lower back as the sensuous buildup along her skin wreaked havoc with her mind. She had little focus of what she wanted or where her limit was; she was utterly – and gratefully – distracted.

* * *

"Just who are you?" he wondered aloud.

Mihawk refused to allow the meal to run cold. He eventually finished it, noted that the cooking was merely satisfactory for his tastes, before he stood up and made his way over to the trunk beside his bed. It was aged, having been passed down to him by his now-deceased uncle. The wood was sunken inwards and the paint job had mostly peeled off. The lock was a shiny metallic on the front, though; the original had required replacing when it broke open after a raid. Using the key he kept hidden behind the cross of his necklace, he opened the trunk and lifted the lid. It was filled with an array of items, from bellies to gold pieces and stacks of papers he had collected along his journeys. Rather than the monetary items that gleamed in an attempt to catch his attention, he reached for the litter of parchment and collected it into his hand. After securing the lock on the trunk, he ventured over to the desk and sat on the decrepit chair beside it. It squeaked as his body leaned back and he propped his feet on the edge of the desk, but no accident occurred, and he began to thumb through the papers.

There were bounties, letters, a few photographs, maps, drawings, notes; some were of no use to him, and as he encountered one of such irrelevance, he tossed it to the floor. Within a few minutes, a small pile of white had formed around his seat, but he pressed on in search of one particular item he was certain he had seen.

The chances that he had thrown it out were likely. At the time, there had been no need for it, but he was hoping that he had decided to store it, at least for a little while. His eyes narrowed as his stack became substantially smaller, and then he caught site of it. He immediately dropped the others and leaned up properly in the chair.

He had been right. Of course he had.

The design of the paper was reminiscent of a bounty, but there was no picture in place. Mihawk's eyes flickered over the information, absorbing it with ease, and a smirk settled on his lips.

This particular bounty wasn't available to the public. He had snagged it from a navy captain he had the pleasure of killing a month earlier, and upon reading it, had considered taking it on for a few extra bellies and a grand opportunity rarely produced. After a bit of deliberation, though, he decided that he was no one's pet. He had almost been certain that he'd discarded it, but he considered himself lucky it was still there.

It appeared that he owed the daring little brunette a visit.

Folding the paper in half, he tucked it behind his shirt and stood up. As always, he attached his sword to his side before vacating the hotel room. He hadn't planned on returning to Anne's humble abode, but considering he hadn't expected her to be so worthwhile, times were changed.

He considered briefly how he was going to go about it. She was most likely with Shanks, and although he didn't care if he knew, he was certain her reaction would be of utmost denial and venomous words. If he wanted to waste as least little time as possible, he needed to question her alone. Alone she was vulnerable, and if he had to, he would easily persuade her to answer him.

As Mihawk headed towards the cottage, he decided to avoid the markets and take an alternative path. It was probably longer, but he didn't want the focus of anyone's attention as he made his journey. He wouldn't appreciate it if rumours began how he was her secret lover or some tripe. It was just easier to avoid trouble for this situation.

However, as he made his way along the winding path, past several houses that seemed to thin out the closer he came to her private beach, he caught sight of another pedestrian making their own way towards him. It was only a couple of feet later that he realised it was Shanks, donned in the same clothes he had the night Mihawk nearly killed him. He could even make out the blood stains that clung to the material, as his eyes were as acute as always.

Shanks most likely hadn't noticed him, as he was too busy glancing up at the sky as he walked. Something did happen between the two, he realised, but he didn't care enough to pursue such thinking, and he quickly hid himself in an alley before his foe caught sight of him. They would continue their fight another time; right now, he had a curiosity to settle.

It took several minutes, but eventually, the red-haired pirate passed by, his eyes now watching the ground as he kept a steady pace towards town. Perhaps he was returning to his ship and desired some peace and quiet; the man was popular in this town. Apparently, idiots can be praised.

He gave it another moment, and then he continued towards the cottage. After ten minutes, he found himself staring at her door, and without further delay, he banged his fist lightly against the frame. He listened as she stumbled along the floor in a rush to open it, and couldn't resist a smirk as she flung open the door, slightly breathless.

However, when her eyes met his, her smile vanished.

"What are you doing here? I thought we agreed you'd never come here again."

Mihawk snorted. "I agreed to nothing. Now let me in."

Anne thought of a few colourful words she desired to say, but they were much too inappropriate, and after her scene at his hotel, she realised she was once again at his mercy. With a strained sigh, she stepped aside and watched as he brushed past her before leaning against her couch.

"I suggest you sit," he told her as his hand reached into the folds of his shirt. Anne shut the door behind her and moved into the chair adjacent to his position. Her hands folded into her lap as she stared up at him, waiting for whatever it was he had to say.

"From the moment I met you, I thought you were just another irritating woman on this planet out to grate my nerves."

"And let me guess: you've since fallen in love with me," she replied. Her eyes rolled towards the ceiling as she leaned back into the chair.

"Absolutely not."

"What, am I too beautiful?"

"Too stupid."

Despite the insult, Anne laughed. It was high-pitched and slightly off, but Mihawk ignored it. Her fidgeting was already a dead giveaway – she was nervous.

"After your little performance earlier, I couldn't help myself from feeling a little… curious."

His eyes flickered over her, but her face was masked and her eyes focused on a framed picture of a garden above the fireplace. He knew she was listening, though.

"This home is rented."

She frowned, startled by the abrupt and otherwise irrelevant statement. "Y-Yes."

"How long have you lived here for?"

"About three months. Why?"

"It's very clear you're not from here, sweetheart."

Her blood turned to ice as it pumped through her veins and her eyes widened to a substantial size. There was _no way_ he could possibly know the truth. She had kept it well-hidden; but for a moment, she felt as though she was suffocating.

"Where are you going with this?" she whispered. Her eyes clung to the painted roses placed on the bottom of the picture and she longed to just melt away into non-existence from the very spot she sat.

"The real question is why you are here, _Miss Leanne_?"

Tears surfaced faster than she had expected, and within seconds she had buried her face in her hands. It was impossible; how the hell could he have known?

"It wasn't obvious, but it was there," he answered her unspoken question. "Your speech, your mannerisms… they're all very high class. The way you carry yourself is unaccustomed in these parts."

She released a loud, quavering sniffle, but there was no other sound.

"It was when you calmed yourself down... when you apologized that I realised why I was so confused. I suppose from then on it was easy to make the connection. You're arrogant. Elitist, I should say. You can take it as a compliment for how sophisticated you are."

He withdrew the folded paper and extended it towards her. It took Anne a moment to see what he had done, and after wiping her face with one hand, she accepted it.

On the page was a headline signifying that it was a missing person's report. There was a TOP SECRET stamp enclosed on the right corner of the page, and a small segment of information was plastered in the centre.

_Name: Leanne Avalon (commonly referred to as 'Miss Leanne')_

_Age: 17_

_Appearance: She is described with brown hair, of a length that extends towards her backside. Her eyes are blue, though may appear green. She has a small frame, very pale skin, and a heart-shaped face. _

_Bounty: Her parents, the supreme and great Avalons, will award 1 billion bellies to whoever returns her to their estate. The coordinates for the island are as follows: -.-.-.-._

_Background: Miss Leanne was reported missing on the evening of January the 2__nd__. It is believed she left _

The rest of the paper had been removed.

"Well, aren't you a clever man, Mihawk," she mused. Perhaps it was funny – a pirate, one of the very people she considered lower than scum and without any worthy intellect, had figured out her real identity. She shook her head and wiped at the tears that continued to fall. "How did you get this?"

He snorted. "Navy dogs aren't difficult to dispatch. This was left on one of their desks."

She nodded her head. "Well," she sighed. "At least I was smart enough to hide here. No one from the navy ever bothers in such a despicable area."

"Why are you here?"

Anne paused as she considered his question. She wondered if it was for curiosity's sake or if he intended on returning her to her parents; either way, the truth had been revealed, and after everything she had endured earlier that day, perhaps it would be nice to final have something honest to say.

"I can't possibly tell you how much I hated it there. Despite the flaws of this island, I don't intend to leave. So if all you want is reward money, go ahead and bring me back. But I'll just escape again." Her eyes narrowed as she directed them on the dismal pirate before her. The corner of his lip rose in a smirk and he shook his head.

"I don't care to bring you back. You're a big girl, aren't you?" he mocked.

"Then why even bring it up? Are you going to tell Shanks? Is that your motive?"

"Don't be anxious," he assured her. "The only interest I have with Shanks is on the battlefield."

He raised his eyebrow with sudden interest. "However, perhaps you could enlighten me as to why the two of you have been such irritating, emotional whelps today."

"It's nothing. We were just… discussing our future. Or, lack of one I should say," she added bitterly. Mihawk didn't press any further; he understood.

Anne, meanwhile, flickered over his figure, wondering how she could plead an allegiance with him, should he ever be tempted to reveal the truth. "I can pay you," she suggested, but with feeble hope. She doubted Mihawk required any funds from her; she could only pray that he possessed a keen sense of greed.

Sure enough, his eyebrow rose as he deliberated the worth of that statement. "I highly doubt you're wealthy now."

"Please, Mihawk, I will truly do anything. You have no idea what kind of uproar there will be if the public discovers I'm missing."

"Actually, stupid woman, I'm very much aware of what kind of discord will unleash if your little disappearing act is found out. I'm not an idiot."

Anne swallowed. She hadn't meant to offend him, and one of the last things she desired at this point was for him to become angry. Her fingers clutched deeply into the cushioned arms of her seat, and she used them as support while she rose to her feet.

"_Please_. Just tell me what you want."

His eyes bore into hers, studying her face as her eyebrows knitted together and her bottom lip quivered. He had little inclination of what he wanted at this point, but her pleading was starting to affect him, and in the art of blackmailing, he figured something that could tide him over.

"Your conviction is rather weak… but we'll keep this between the two of us; I'll even let you have this—" he waved the paper casually "—as long as you're prepared for a night in my bed."

The brunette's eyes widened and her lips parted in the shape of a circle. "W-What?"

Mihawk smirked as he stared down her reaction. "Consider this: your relationship with Shanks is only a temporary setting, and I have little interest in the other females of this village. Think of yourself as the prize fish in a pool of guppies."

"That's absurd! How could you even ask me this? You know my background! I would never… I could never do such a thing!"

"Leanne, there are two types of people in this world: those who give a shit, and those who don't." He leaned towards her, his eyes narrowed and his jaw locked. She retreated one step and did her best to meet his eyes, but mostly, she wanted to cringe. "I can assure you I really couldn't care for your problems. You want secrecy, and I want payment."

Bewildered, Anne found herself collapsing back into her seat. Her eyes finally averted the towering pirate and focused on the floorboards beneath her feet. What was she to do? If Shanks or anyone else discovered her identity, she would surely be captured and returned to her family. Not to mention, she couldn't imagine the reaction her red-headed pirate would have… whether he'd understand or be consumed with rage.

Her eyes flickered once again to the stone face of Dracule Mihawk. One thing was for certain: she had been incredulously wrong. Pirates weren't stupid; they were dastardly clever.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Hello, awesome-sauce people!

Well, ta-da! This has been the chapter I've been dying to write since god knows how long. I'm sure there will be plenty of mixed reactions, and I'm prepared to take it, but DAMN! It feels good to finally finish it! :D

I think I knew I wanted Mihawk to be the one who discovered it after seeing how calm and stoic he appeared when learning something as shocking as Luffy being Dragon's son. I thought, "gee, Mihawk has seen everything in life. Can't surprise him."

Since the beginning of this story, I knew Anne's past was a mystery I didn't want to carry on for too long. If I updated, er, more frequently, I'm sure it would have been less of a surprise as it is now. But really, the evidence was always there (I also considered having Benn deduce the truth, but ultimately, Mihawk spent more time around her).

I've been rereading One Piece as of late, and it's been surging my inspiration. Oh, Oda-sensei! You marvelous, comedic man! Regretfully, I find myself bouncing in my seat with desire to begin the sequel to this story! I'm in quite the predicament – I must get this done soon! (I'm sure most of you would appreciate that!)

If you have any interesting thoughts towards this chapter flooding your head, please leave a review, especially if you have any questions. Plenty of you have been leaving curious comments that I wish I could answer, but it's one of those things you'll find out in time. ALSO, A LOT OF YOU ARE TERRIBLE INFLUENCES. THIS WAS NEVER INTENDED TO BE A MIHAWK X OC X SHANKS STORY (still kind of isn't…). –shakes fist– Just look at what you have done to my miiiiiind!

Last note: I have a new story in the works; one for the fandom Young Justice. I'm a MEGA comic book junkie, and I especially enjoy superhero cartoons, so this is my other current obsession. I know what you're all thinking: _bitch, you better finish NPNP before you start writing another story_! But let's face it, guys: I'm a story slut. I can't just write one story; I have to write them all!

A big thank you to everyone who read this! It was a pleasure writing it, so I hope you enjoyed reading it!


	12. Chapter 11

**Author's Note: **Alive... just barely, but I'm alive. I've graduated, moved, and it's summer. I am aliiiiiiive.

The majority of this chapter has been written for quite some time, I just lost my flow of inspiration again. However, it's back, it's beating, and so I'm going to do my best to finish this story once and for all. By the end of summer. I'm hoping that with enough support and all-nighters, I can accomplish this feeble goal. I owe it to you amazing fans to give you a finished product. Hell, then I can go back and seriously edit everything. I've been writing this story for only Satan can presume how long.

On a side note: FFnet is coming down hard on explicit stories. I never intended to create any sort of lemon or such for NPNP, though there will be sexual content. Clearly, it's not going to be too descriptive, but because of that, I think I'll be upgrading the rating to M in the near future. The, uh, tone will gradually shift to a darker setting anyway, and I don't want to have this mis-categorized.

Anyway! Thanks for all of the love and support and naughty thoughts.

* * *

Shanks eyed the ground as he headed towards the docks. For a rare moment in his life, he wasn't keen on socializing with anyone, and so walked along the back way in hopes of avoiding familiar faces. He'd thought he'd had plenty of time to think while Annie delivered Mihawk his grub, but his mind still hadn't calmed down. In fact, it was horribly odd. He'd never thought so much about a woman in his life!

He speculated as to whether Benn had any helpful advice, but the most the red-head had seen for his experiences were one night stands. And really, that was fine, but Annie didn't fit that category. He went over his crew members in his head before stopping in mid track. Of course! Yasopp was married! Not that Annie was Shank's wife, but Yasopp's wife hadn't started out that way either!

He paused along the road as a frightening thought came to mind: did he want Annie as a wife?

He shook out his hair and laughed awkwardly to himself. How absurd… the sake festival was in just two days. He was probably leaving in a week. Maybe he'd see Annie again, in a few years when he returned, but there was no way the two of them could make a relationship out of that. As much as he adored the girl – and really, she was special to him – he'd have to move on.

It left him with an empty feeling in his gut, one that couldn't be buried with food or alcohol. His relations with women in the past had been very limited, but he'd encountered plenty of 'em before. None of them were quite as angry or feisty as Anne, and some of them were much eager in bed, but that was part of her charm. Her flustered reaction whenever he complimented her, her hidden smile when he managed to please her, and her laugh that always seemed to make his chest hair even curlier.

Now that was something rare: he could sail the Grand Line for the rest of his life and probably never encounter someone as precious as that.

There was really no guideline for situations like these. If a woman captured your attention for this long, and in such a potent manner, she really had to be something extraordinary.

It was kind of nice to settle in such a warm place; love was a new feeling he was beginning to enjoy.

"Hey there, capt'n!"

Shanks lifted his face and settled his gaze on the large figure of Lucky Roo. Grinning, he waved at him and bounded down the street until he was only a few feet ahead.

"Hey, my good man! How ya doin'?"

"Not bad," Roo replied before taking a bite out of his chicken leg. He paused to swallow. "We're thinking of headin' to The Rotting Fish again – that bar owner, Ted, said his wife's feelin' better."

"Excellent!" Shanks cheered.

"Yep," Roo agreed. "Will you be comin', or do you have plans?" His grin was filled with intent and implication-Shanks wanted to laugh, but he felt too uncomfortable given the present circumstances.

"I think I will. I'm just heading back to the ship to grab a few things, but if y'all don't mind, I want to stay with Annie until we set sail."

"We take no offense, capt'n."

Shanks smiled and patted his comrade lightly on the shoulder. "You're a good man, Roo."

"Aye, boy."

The two of them burst into laughter and began their walk back to port. Shanks, attempting to make small conversation, couldn't help that every now and then his mind would settle on thoughts of Anne. There was a sudden concern that he hadn't counted in with all of this emotional mess: if he did leave, regardless with attachments to Anne or not, what if someone else were to rail her into their ship? She was a pretty lady, and he couldn't be the only one attracted to such stubborn and vicious personalities. Ted had mentioned that the town wasn't too fond of her attitude, but Angel's Port was a hot spot for travellers; besides, she wasn't much of a permanent resident herself.

Suppose he left and returned in a year's time only to discover that she was gone?

It was peculiar, the strain that appeared to grip his chest as he considered such a rational scenario. He couldn't stay, clearly, but her leaving and risking the possibility that the two of them would never see one another again –

"THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE TEMPORARY!" he shouted his frustration. He stopped his movements at once and turned to face the direction towards her home. "I DON'T UNDERSTAND. YOU'RE RUINING MY BRAIN!"

"…What, captain?"

"I'M TIRED OF THINKING. I NEED SOME SAKE."

Roo watched as his captain swirled once again and took off in a run towards the ship. He considered only briefly what his captain was thinking, before sinking his teeth into the chicken leg; it wasn't his business. At least they'd be drinking that night!

* * *

When Anne awakened later that evening, darkness had settled over the island. A soft moonlight crept along her bed, peaking through the curtains, but it didn't overwhelm her eyes as they opened. She twisted onto her side, pulling the covers closer against her body. There was still a thick fog covering her thoughts as she tried to pull herself away from dreamland and take in reality a few breaths at a time.

She simply felt awful.

It had been months since she'd cried so much in a day. Her eyes were exhausted, swollen and irritated as she blinked them against the darkness. There was no warmth beside her, indicating that Shanks had yet to return. She suddenly drew concern as she pondered whether he was now avoiding her, but then she remembered the cause for her late afternoon nap: Mihawk.

Even in the sanctity of her room, the impression of his narrowed, golden eyes still pierced her through their memory. She inhaled sharply, trying to supress the memories that attempted to surface. Mihawk… Dracule Mihawk.

Despite the pain her eyes were already enduring, she could feel the tears that threatened to build. How could there be any left? She suddenly laughed, and it was as if it cured the need for her to cry.

She had done enough of that. She finally, truly had.

Her hands travelled along her limbs, smoothing the skin as she cautiously brought her thoughts to earlier in the day. She smiled as she remembered the few moments she and Shanks had spent in her bed, and a blush sanctioned along her cheeks. At the moment, she had been more than willing to sleep with the red-headed pirate, despite not knowing for sure if she could handle it, but he had stopped. Told her he needed to grab some things from the ship, check in with the crew, and then he'd return to her. She sighed as she glanced over to the empty space beside her.

The guilt that expanded through her seemed to sprout from her stomach and manifest against her heart. Shanks hadn't exactly been the only man in her bed that day.

Her eyes closed again as she finally succumbed and relived the memory. Mihawk's proposal offered her little room to squirm; when she had agreed to his terms, she couldn't even look at him. Her eyes closed when he kissed her, and her body remained rigid as he lifted her into his arms and carried her to her bed. She balled her hands into fists at her sides, ignoring every kiss and feel as he made his way along her body. The distance she had managed to secure between them didn't go unnoticed; the pirate spent little time with her body before informing her that he'd see her again soon, and if she was more animated next time, she'd keep the bounty. His departure was swift, and when loneliness lodged itself inside her home, she cried herself to sleep. She may still be a virgin, but she felt as filthy as a whore.

_What a day it's been_, Anne thought_. And it still hasn't completely finished_.

Slowly, Anne maneuvered herself out of bed and went over to the clock. It read 9 in the evening – meaning she had completely thrown off her sleeping schedule. She decided she might as well prepare herself a late night supper and then check on Shanks at the ship.

However, as she entered the kitchen, she spotted a note left on her table. It was terribly scribbled, but she managed to make out the words.

_Annie– _

_I'm with the crew at The Rotting Fish. When you wake up, join us! I miss you!_

_-Shanks_

She stared at the note, gently increasing her grip as her eyes flickered over her favourite line – I miss you. It was amazing how such a little phrase not containing "love" sparked her heart into immediate drive. She folded the letter, placed it in one of the kitchen drawers, and returned to her bedroom. Maybe she could go out – just to see him. If she was going to lose him in one week's time and suffer the burden of an affair with someone who terrified her, she wanted something she could grasp encouragingly in her mind. A recovered pearl from a broken chain – she wanted to find some source of happiness and relief.

* * *

"How's everything tonight, capt'n?" Benn inquired as he seated himself along the bar. Shanks was focused on his bottle in hand, determined to see the bottom of it before he placed it back down. It was abnormal for Shanks to have such little interest in the company around him and focus primarily on the alcohol. For the young captain it was a blessed mixture of two of his favourite things to create his ultimate activity.

Benn knew something was wrong – he just didn't want to broach the subject.

"…Do you think Annie would hate me if I kidnapped her?"

"I think you need to take a moment to re-examine that question."

Shanks frowned, the confusion eminent on his expression, before he growled and tossed down the bottle. "To hell with it: I gotta go. Need to sort this mess out before I overwork me' head."

"Okay, but Anne just walked in, so I would wait-"

"Wha-? ANNIE!"

The red-headed captain soared to his feet and whirled around, fixating his anxious eyes on the delightful woman at the entrance. Dressed in one of her conservative gowns, her eyes swept the room, searching for her pirate. When she'd made contact with him, he sealed the space between them and resisted the temptation to draw her into his arms. He didn't want to arouse any attention, especially with how apprehensive she already appeared before him.

"Hey," he whispered his soft tone reminiscent of her nanny's lullaby. It kindled such a gentle emotion through her, trampling all of the worries she'd concerned herself with earlier.

"Hello," Anne said. "I'm sorry – I feel asleep before you arrived. I was just… very tired."

Shanks rolled his shoulders before shaking his head. "It's fine, lass. Let's take a walk – I've probably finished all that's left of the rum, anyway."

"Shanks…" Anne warned, but the pirate ignored her and carefully took her hand between his as he led her out. The streets were empty, what with most of the town's inhabitants frequenting the bars tonight, and so they left uninterrupted, wandering towards the town's exit. Anne felt the familiar sense of anguish as she considered what Shanks had troubling his mind; she wasn't sure if she was prepared for any more discussion on his departure.

"Why don't we go back and dance or something?" she insisted, but he ignored her. Silence grasped the two in an unsettling hold, but she didn't dare to break it. Eventually, when they'd made their way past her cottage, she realised where he was taking her.

The deep cove was just as magnificent as the first night he'd brought her there. However, instead of charging down the hill, she followed behind his steps. Sand intruded into her sandals, but she took no notice of it as she tried to keep up with his rigid pace. The items she'd left behind and forgotten lay next to newly carved sand castles. It graced a smile across her lips as she pictured the children making use of her discarded bowls.

"Annie…"

She glanced at him, relieved he was finally ready to talk. He stopped midway to the shore and turned to face her. His straw hat blocked the moonlight, but she could still see the features of his youthful face. Again, she smiled.

"What's all of this about? If you're trying to romance me, I'll have to question your intentions."

Shanks smiled. "We never really got to finish here last time… it could be nice, you know. Today's been an, uh… interesting day."

Anne nodded. "Yes, I suppose one could describe it that way…"

The captain frowned. "Annie, I'm sorry if what I said upset you."

"Shanks, don't," she interrupted. "Please. You were more than reasonable – I've just been very… stressed today. You're right – we have no means of lasting. While I do appreciate the sentiment, I'd rather we bury this subject. You leave in a week, and I'd like to enjoy everything we have until then. Okay?"

He stood before her, surprised by her firmness in the subject, but immediately agreed. Anne, delighted to finally submerge the dreadful topic, leaned forward and kissed him once again. For a fleeting moment, she considered whether he could find Mihawk's taste on her lips, and in her desperation, pulled away to search his eyes. The pirate simply stood before her, smiling, and asked her if they wanted to continue elsewhere.

"I'm not sure," she answered, pausing between words. Shanks nodded his understanding.

"We can just… talk, you know. And kiss, yeah?"

She laughed. "Yes… I don't mind that."

"Excellent!"

Upon plunging into the sand, the two resumed where they'd left off without ever having addressed their true feelings.

* * *

The bounty seemed to burn into his hand as Mihawk read over its contents for the hundredth time that evening. Occasionally, he'd pause to take a mouthful of sake, before engaging his mind with thoughts of Anne. He couldn't console his curiosity – the girl was an oddity tossed before him. He had her in the palm of his hand, dangling with desperation that he'd keep her secret hidden from the rest of the world, and yet he couldn't grasp why she was in the situation in the first place. The Avalons… well, it definitely wasn't something the public could be informed about. She'd be ripped apart with faster desire than the greed lusted for One Piece.

His eyes grew heavy from the exhaustion of the day's events; he'd have to take her tomorrow. And then, he'd give Shanks the decency of a duel. If he was going to sleep with a man's woman, he owed him the opportunity to redeem himself.


	13. Chapter 12

**Author's Note:** Hi, everyone! I wrote this entire chapter today, and damn, am I proud! I have about six stories I'm actively writing right now, so I've been alternating between them. xD But I'm managing to stay on task for NPNP, so that's all that truly matters!

This chapter… well, it's the last of the good times before the plot takes a turn, so I hope you all enjoy it as much as I do! Thank you all for being such wonderful readers; I've received another mad influx of followers and reviews, and I really do appreciate it all, even if it's a small "please update soon" comment. I really will try to! :D

Now, I have an uglier topic to address. I discovered earlier today that No Prey, No Pay was plagiarized on another writing site. The story has since been removed, but the administrators and I agree that it was most likely perpetrated by someone who frequented the story on here (I hadn't published it on this other site yet). I'll most likely never know who did it, and I'm not going to dwell on it, but it's definitely disheartening to see my work plastered in someone else's name and then ditched into an anonymous account. I'm hoping to never encounter a situation like this again, but shit happens, right?

Again, I'd like to thank all of you guys for being so amazing, and I want to assure you this incident won't deter me in any way from updating! If anything, it only inspired me to finish this story!

Much love,

Krys

* * *

The following day the weather remained blanketed by gray clouds. Anne awoke from the sand in stunned realization that she'd actually slept outside, and when she shook on Shanks' shoulder to join her in consciousness, he opened his eyes to see a panicked look on her face.

"Shanks, we fell asleep!"

The red-haired pirate frowned as he blinked against the sunlight. "Wha—? Oh… yeah, must have."

She clambered to her feet, latching onto his hand to pull him beside her. "Shanks," she urged. "What if a crab had pinched me or the tide took me out to sea or… or something like that?"

Shanks frowned his confusion, but didn't have to reply as Anne was already marching up the hill.

"I need to return to my cottage. You can stop by later, all right?" she shouted, her voice drifting softly behind her.

"Y-Yeah!"

He watched as she fled, no expression of understanding revealed on his greasy face. She really was peculiar, that Anne.

* * *

When Anne reached even land, she broke into a run. She hadn't slept outside since she'd escaped before, and the dreaded memories of vicious storms, sea creatures, and ailments flooded to her present thought. She was pleased that she'd had such a wonderful night with Shanks—why, she still felt ignited from him and his kisses—but she truly was afraid that she'd lost all sense and fell asleep outside. It was foolish! Angel's Port was vastly receiving dozen of pirate crews a day, what with the Sake Festival only—

"Tomorrow," she finished allowed.

Tomorrow was the first day of the Sake Festival. Once the five days were over, Shanks would be gone. Suddenly, she didn't feel nearly as troubled by her sleeping quarters of the previous night. Her mind fell into a loop that circled her anxious thoughts of Shanks, Mihawk, Shanks… She didn't even register that she was once again, facing her front door, when Mihawk opened it from the inside and drew her into his arms.

"Someone was busy last night," he mused. His hand reached for her hair and he watched as sand pebbles descended to the floor. Anne watched his face, her body rigid as she noted how close he was holding her against him.

"I need to talk to you," she finally said. Mihawk's eyes loomed on her, noticing the grim form her lips took, and it wasn't to his surprise what subject she had on her mind.

"I'm not here to listen to you plead," he replied, his disinterest apparent in his tone.

"I know I agreed… to your deal." She shuddered as she thought of the contents to which she still couldn't accept. "But I need… I need to make an alteration to it."

He arched his brow and leaned back, separating their bodies with a foot of distance. "And that is?" he inquired.

"I want to wait until I've… been… with Shanks."

It was with great control that he didn't laugh, although such an extraordinary suggestion was amusing to him.

"You want me to wait until you've been with another man? I don't think you understand how this works, Miss Leanne," he sneered.

"Please, Mihawk," she beseeched. "Shanks will be leaving soon. I realise you won't be too far behind, but if it's only one thing I can ask for—"

"This isn't just one thing, though. I'm already maintaining your dark, little secret, so unless you're comfortable with me spreading it around as I wait for you to spread your legs—" He broke off as he noted the widened horror her eyes seemed to shape.

"That isn't what I mean!" she gasped. "This may mean nothing to you but some worthwhile excursion, but it means everything to me!"

"Then pick: do you want your new life or your new man?"

She stared at the narrowed, calloused eyes of the pirate and felt her head swimming from the choice laid before her. "I… I don't know," she answered honestly.

Mihawk chuckled. "I'm not giving you a day to decide; I want your answer now."

Anne bit into her lip as she crawled into focus. She was desperate to be with Shanks, in both emotional and intimate settings. Never had a man felt as real or sincere in his treatment towards her, and despite his standing as a pirate. She had such limited time with him as it was, and here, Mihawk was demanding a gift already precious in nature and of what she believed should only be exchanged through marriage.

If she was to forfeit it ahead of time, she needed it—for her sake—to go to the man she loved.

It was so simple—she loved Shanks.

"Tonight," she said urgently. "Give me until tonight. And then you can have me as much as you want. I promise I won't protest again… but please, give me until tonight."

Mihawk was surprised by her offer, not because it was unexpected, but because she was still so persistent on a proposal he'd already rejected. However, he was a man of reason, if reason presented sufficiency before him.

"All right, Leanne," he agreed. Her eyes glowed and a smile rose along her lips, but he continued. "I'll give you until tonight. When you're… finished, I expect to find you alone here. And trust me, Annie: I won't be gentle. I don't want to listen to another word of your complaints."

"Yes," she breathed. She didn't care at this point; he'd said yes. "Thank you, Mihawk. Thank you!"

It was odd how she thanked a man for not forcing her into something she didn't want in the first place, but this was a situation she couldn't face objectively. She merely had to accept the terms of her predicament, and relieved, she bid him good day.

When she once again found herself alone in her cottage, Anne contemplated how she was to approach the subject with Shanks. She had little experience with men before him, and absolutely no knowledge of what to expect in the bedroom.

There was a simpler solution to all this: after all, she owed her friends a visit after her month of vacancy from their lives.

* * *

"Annie, how could you?" Char demanded as the brunette ventured through the crowded tables and over to her friends. They were having lunch at Haltags, a local restaurant frequented by the younger crowd. However, Anne noted several tables filled with men of obvious origins—the Sake Festival brought all sorts of varieties, but most frequently, pirates.

But her accustomed feelings of antagonism didn't surface; she even smiled to a man who tipped his hat at her while she walked by. And it was this reserved smile that had her friends in a frenzy when she finally sat down.

"What the hell?" Sophie asked first. The other two stared her down as though she was returned to them in some morphed state of being, which, she had to agree, was the case.

"What?" she countered, a smile still playing on her lips. "It's been an… interesting month."

"It must be!" Olivia said. "We've barely seen you. What have you been doing? We have soooo much to catch up on!"

"Last night," Char interjected before Anne tried to speak. "We saw Shanks hanging around with Benn at Tim's bar. And that's not all! We've seen them together on several occasions; a few weeks ago, Benn was carrying Shanks through the town. They're lovie-dovie, I'm telling you."

Bewildered, Anne simply sat in her silence.

"But we have more to discuss than the irrelevant lives of two men making a poor choice," Sophie remarked. "The Sake Festival is tomorrow and there are so many more gorgeous men this year."

"Oh… Oh yeah?" the brunette asked weakly.

"Definitely! We're planning on going to The Rotting Fish again, and I'm sure, sure, sure we can all find someone. You seem to have an interest in pirates now," Olivia winked and inclined her head towards the pirate she'd smiled at earlier.

"Well… yes, but the thing is… I've actually found someone."

Silence greeted the table, foreign and uncomfortable. Their eyes present on her, Anne realised she needed to explain herself before their questions restarted and overwhelmed her.

"He's a man I met a while ago," she divulged cautiously. "Very sweet, very charismatic. Tonight I was thinking… perhaps we should progress with our relationship. I'm just not too sure… how."

"ARE YOU SERIOUS?" Char squealed. She lunged herself over the table to secure her friend in a hug. "Oh, Annie, this is amazing! Who is it?"

"Of course we'll give you some advice," Sophie added over Charmille's shoulder.

There was the dilemma: Anne was insecure with how the girls might view her relationship with Shanks. She didn't suspect their perception that he was gay would interfere, but the fact that someone like her was involved with him in the first place. She'd never silenced herself in the past over her prejudices, and at times, she'd behaved quite judgemental towards her friend's excursions. But she needed their support—most of all, she needed to trust them.

"Shanks," she forced out before she could switch paths again. "It's Shanks. It started out almost… immediately, and turned into whatever it is now. But it's complicated; he's leaving right after the Sake Festival, and just the thought—"

Her voice cracked and she realized tears were materializing at her eyes. "I don't know what to do. And tonight, I want us to… to see each other, before he becomes too intoxicated he can't remember my name."

"Oh, Annie," Char murmured. She slipped off the table and nudged Olivia out of the seat next to Anne so she could continue holding her. "It's all right…"

"You mean he's not really gay?" Sophie asked. The other girls sent her a look to silence any further irrelevant questions.

"No," Anne answered, interrupting her own speech to laugh. "He's definitely not gay."

"And he's definitely leaving?"

She nodded at Olivia. "Yes, he is. We've already… discussed it. But I don't care. I know this is unexpected for all of you, but I mean it. If I never see him again, then that's what happens, but I want to spend all of my time with him until then."

"So you'll be ditching us after lunch then, huh?" Char joked. Anne once again chuckled and wiped at a few spilled tears.

"I'm sorry," she murmured, her tone now helpless. The other girls shushed her, and Anne thanked them as Sophie rubbed her shoulder.

"Well, first off," Olivia said, "if you're going to get dirty with the pirate, make him take a bath beforehand. Sex involves a lot of touching and intimacy, and I can tell you right now you don't want to be distracted by all the good stuff because he decided to skip a shower."

"All right," Anne agreed, suddenly eager as they divulged their knowledge to her.

"Secondly," Char continued, "make sure this is something you want. If you're too nervous about it or scared, you're only going to panic yourself, and knowing Shanks, you'll upset him too. Sex is meant to be the greatest expression of love! Well, you don't have to love someone to do it—"

"We're not going to get into that," Sophie interjected, nudging her head towards Anne.

"Right, right. The point is, love: don't pressure yourself. If you're not ready, then that's okay, too. If you rush it, you might regret it."

"Believe me, I won't," Anne assured them. "It might be sooner than I imagined, but I want it to be with him. I don't care if it's ahead of schedule."

"Just as long as _you_ are sure, sweetie," Olivia said. "This is all about you and him."

Char blinked and drummed her fingers along Anne's arm. "Come to think of it, has Shanks had sex?"

The girls turned towards her, but Anne meagrely shrugged. "I assumed so, but I can't say anything for certain."

"Huh," the girls commented in unison.

"Anything else?"

"Well, I'd recommend you do it in a bed. Get into the crazier positions later," Sophie suggested. The other girls nodded.

Olivia leaned forward. "And Anne, if it hurts, tell him to stop. You can just try again at a slower pace."

"Not that it will hurt," Char quickly interrupted. "It might just be… uncomfortable! If he's too rough, you might bleed, but that's not often the case."

Anne realised she'd requested this information, but she felt panicked at the startling information she was now listening to. She'd never heard of blood or pain involved with sex; in fact, she'd frequently engaged in conversations with the girls over how pleasurable the act was.

"It's only because you're a virgin," Olivia responded, as though interpreting her thoughts. "The next few times will be much better."

"So enjooooy!" Charmille gushed. The other girls laughed and took a turn sharing a hug with her, but Anne felt nauseous as she thought of Mihawk. That was the term of their agreement; right after Shanks, she'd find herself with him. Disregarding the obvious loathing she felt towards herself, she remembered the cruel pirate's promise: _I won't be gentle._

It was all she could do but pray that Shanks would. And most importantly, that he wouldn't reject her.

* * *

Shanks was waiting at her little cottage when she returned. The sun had finally breached the horizon with its potent glow, and Anne found herself in a sweat as she stepped in from the door. After closing it, her eyes found the red-headed pirate perched across her couch wearing a grin and her robe again.

"Hey, Annie," he greeted, his eyes alive with mischievous implications.

"What are you up to?" she asked as she moved in front of him. She giggled as he jerked her down atop of him, and stole his moment to answer her by sealing their lips in a kiss.

"I was thinking," Shanks murmured against her mouth, "that we'd spend the rest of the day here. It's hot outside anyway, and I'm not in the mood to go to the bar tonight."

"Sounds perfect," Anne agreed, and she quickly fell silent from any coherent words as Shanks' tongue maneuvered along the curve of her bottom lip. She breathed forcefully through her nose, determined to not interrupt him, and moaned when his hands lifted from their hold on her to instead explore the curves of her body.

"Shanks," she groaned when his mouth detached from her and slipped against her neck. "Perhaps we should move to the bedroom," she suggested.

The pirate pulled away from her neck to grin at her. "Are you sure?" he asked. The smile, although unwearied, still held caution, and she nodded her head to assure him.

"Yes."

His hands paused from their rummaging to engulf her a second time and it was once he had her secured that he lifted her into his arms while he stood. As the light touched him, Anne paused to grab his chin and run her other hand through his hair.

"Did you take a bath?"

"Yep; pretty glad I did now," he admitted.

If that wasn't a sign that this was now, she couldn't expect anything else. She continued to stroke the soft strands of his vibrant red hair and his steps weren't hurried as he moved down the hall. Anne was no longer nervous either. The bed peaked through the door that stood ajar, an open invitation to settle both of their desires, and she was very much eager to discover this act in full detail.

_I love you_, she thought quietly to herself, and as he lowered her onto the white comforter, she was unaware of the similar thought shared by her partner.


End file.
